Broken
by subseeker
Summary: Dean is alone and caught in a life that is paved with violence and pain... until the new kid in school holds out his hand out to Dean to pull him out. Ambreigns, high school AU, multi-chapter (gah, I wished I was better at doing summaries -.- but don't worry, not a story about pubescent, clingy 12-year-old ;)
1. Superman

With a pained groan Dean rolled over, coming to lie more or less face down while his fingers clawed at the rough concrete. Blood. He tasted blood. He'd bitten his tongue and there was probably also blood running from his ruined nose down his throat. Faintly he heard voices above him, taunting, sharp and insulting and laughter, while he tried to draw in some air, but every fucking breath hurt. Fuck, his _whole fucking body hurt_. Maybe he should have known better than to mess with a bunch of retarded goons.

"Worthless piece of shit," he heard one of them growl, saw a movement from the corner of his eye.

Rolling onto his side, he managed to catch the foot that aimed for his stomach, twisting it while shoving its owner backwards, causing him to fall to the ground, but before Dean could climb to his feet, it was a kick to the head that ripped a hoarse shout from his throat. Another kick followed, hard, landing right in his stomach. His mouth opened in a soundless cry. He _wanted_ to cry out. He couldn't. He couldn't _breathe_... Curling up to a ball, he brought his arm up to shield his head... waiting for the next kick.

It never came though.

"What's going on here?"

A new voice. Hadn't been there the whole time, definitely. A low voice. He knew that voice, had heard it before. Somewhere. Peeking out from under his arm, he tried to get a glimpse on the newcomer and the first thing his eyes caught were blue jeans, sticking tight to massive legs. Legs which belonged to a big guy with long black hair and all muscles. Oh yeah, right. That new kid in school. Superman. And Superman was coming closer.

"I asked what is going on here," Superman said again.

His voice was calm but not really nice. With a grunt, Dean moved his arm out of the way the very moment Superman looked right down at him. Their eyes met and the gaze of those grey eyes was sharp, piercing. _And not nice_...

_Fuck_, Dean thought. _Fucking shit._

He needed to get up and away from here. Pain shot through him as he tried to climb to his feet. Hot pain, setting his whole body even more inflame. He heard the moans which were passing his lips and he hated it, fucking hated that those goons heard it, too.

"Nothing."

"And _nothing_ is a reason to beat him up five on one?" he heard Superman ask, saw him slowly walking closer until he was standing right beside him while the sharp eyes wandered over the other standing guys.

"Why do you even care about this piece of shit?" one of them, the chief goon probably, asked.

"Who I care about or not is none of your business and I damn sure won't be watching one person getting beaten up by a whole group." And Superman's voice had dropped to a growl. A relief that Dean would never have admitted aloud was there flooded him. Relief that Superman was on _his_ side here. Obviously. "I suggest you grab your shit and fuck off."

Finally getting his legs under him, Dean kneeled on the ground, bracing on one hand while wrapping his other arm protectively around his middle. His head was pounding and his ears were buzzing and he badly felt like throwing up.

"You're new here, man, you should make sure you're choosing the right friends or..."

"Or... _what_?" Glancing up, he saw Superman stepping up to the guy, coming to stand nose to nose with him. The muscles of the square jaw were jumping and a shadow was casting over the grey eyes. "You don't wanna mess with me, dude, _do you_?"

It was a poker game that Superman was playing here because although being bigger and broader than the others, it was still one against five. Taking a deep breath, Dean fought the pain down and tried once more to stand up.

"We're five, _dude_, and you're alone."

And then, somehow, Dean stood upright, still holding his middle and feeling far from being steady on his feet, but he _stood_ and if he would end up on the ground again with knocked out teeth and broken bones, so be it.

"He's not alone," he gritted out, willing his breathing to stay as even as possible and wiping his face clear of any hints that he was hurting like bitch.

Long seconds with a ridiculous high-noon staredown on school grounds... and then one of the group took a step backwards, a second and the others followed. A blink later he was alone with Superman. Turning away, Dean began to limp away, not really sure where to go to though. All he wanted was to get away from here to a relative safe place to lick his wounds. Unseen.

But Superman seemed to have other plans and he hadn't come very far as the big man appeared at his side, already reaching out to support him.

"Let me help you," Superman murmured, but Dean pushed the offered hand away.

"Don't need help," he muttered, straightening up a bit more as he quickened his pace to walk away from the other man.

Three steps. Four. Before dizziness washed through him as the pain got brighter again with every movement. His view blurred, becoming fuzzy and dark around the edges and his attempt to breathe it away failed poorly because no matter how deep he was breathing, everything only became more and more fuzzy.

Maybe ten steps.

His knees buckled, his legs giving way under him before he could sit down on the ground again to prevent himself from even more pain an uncontrolled fall would bring along. Arms closed around his upper body and why was Superman suddenly right in front of him? He was being pulled tightly against the big frame while his hands decided to hold on to the broad shoulders, twisting into Superman's shirt. Shirt, not cape. So Superman was off duty today. If he wasn't the lucky one then that Superman had come along here by chance to save him from being beaten to a pulp.

He couldn't help the grunt that wanted out because although probably as gentle as possible, the hold on him hurt. A moment later he found himself kneeling on the ground, more or less between those impressive legs while the broad arms around him didn't let go.

"I said I don't need your fucking help," Dean hissed, knowing that it wasn't much convincing since his body had just proved his words wrong.

And him holding on to Superman only underlined that. He could simply let go, but he also knew that he wouldn't get far on his own right now.

Fuck that shit.

"Yeah, _sure_. You _totally_ don't need help," Superman snorted, loosening his hold just enough to lean back a little to scrutinize Dean's face and it seemed that he didn't like what he saw there. Huh, nothing new, was it? That people looked at him like that? "I suggest we get your ass over to a bench. Come on," the other man sighed and tightened his hold on Dean again, pulling him up without much effort as he moved to stand.

Some stifled groans from Dean and a bit of shifting his hold from Superman later, they walked over to the bench, very slowly though but eventually they made it there and Dean was lowered down carefully. And Superman joined him, sitting there beside him and... Dean flinched as hands settled on his face and his belly to check the extent of the damage done to him.

Inching away from the unwanted examination, Dean muttered: "I'd prefer to be alone now, thank you."

Superman kept his hand to himself then, although it was pretty much visible that he had a hard time to do so and he also seemed not to plan to actually go and Dean was torn between being irritated, wary and... intrigued.

"Okay, what happened?" Superman wanted to know, raising an eyebrow in question.

And Dean kept his mouth shut. Why the fuck should he tell someone he didn't know and also had no interest in getting to know what had happened here? It would only cause more problems.

"Do I speak Chinese today or why do I have to repeat myself again and again?" the other man huffed, his other eyebrow joining the first one to give him a _just spill it, dude_ expression.

"Maybe you have to repeat yourself because you keep sticking your nose into things that don't concern you?!" Dean snapped.

The last thing he needed was someone who dug in his life and made it even more unpleasant. He'd survived all those years somehow without anyone who helped him. He would get through the next six month on his own, too, and then he would be...

A hand was waved in front of his face, making come back to the here and now. Superman's expression had changed to honestly worried. Dean blinked. Once. Twice. It did something funny to his guts, the worry he saw there because he couldn't remember the last time that someone had looked at him like that.

"What has happened, man? And don't tell me now that nothing has happened. We both know that's bull and before you tell me again now to go: I'm not gonna go anywhere until you can walk on your own. Those idiots might come back. So?"

Wonderful. Fuck his body for betraying him and leaving him here sitting, stuck with Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Reaching up, he gingerly felt his ruined nose that thankfully seemed not to be as damaged as he had thought. Didn't feel as if it was fractured or shit. It was swollen though and hurting like bitch and as he drew his hand back, there was fresh blood on his fingers. Didn't make a difference, did it? He was already looking like a piece of patchwork art anyway with all the cuts and scratches and bruises... the older ones. Color up your life, my ass. He ran his tongue over his lips and hissed quietly as a cut on his lower lip stung. He wasn't only feeling like a mess, he most likely also looked like that. Much.

"That, uh... that chief goon guy called me a piece of scum and shoved me," Dean growled, grinding his teeth as he felt rage bubble in his guts. Maybe being called that shouldn't affect him that much anymore. Yet it did. "I poured my coke over his head."

A low chuckle caused him to look up from his bloodstained fingers to the man beside him. He shot him a scowl. And Superman pursed his lips to stop the chuckling, not very successful though.

"Pretty girlish," Superman grinned.

A grin. Soft. Nice.

Wiping his hands on his jeans clad thighs to get the blood of, Dean looked away, grumbling: "Yeah, haha. Funny, man, so _fucking_ funny."

"But you've left quite a bit of damage before they took you down, man." The amusment was completely gone from the low voice as Superman said that, almost like a switch being flipped.

It was gentle instead.

"Not as much as I wanted to," he huffed.

He'd gifted those goons a shiner or two and sure as hell some nice bruises but it hadn't been enough to make them leave him alone. Well, he'd probably should have ignored them in the first place instead of showering chief goon with coke.

"Still impressive enough." A hand was stretched out to him. Then: "My name is Roman Reigns. Yours?"

Gazing at the hand warily, Dean did _not_ take it. Impolite, yeah, but he hadn't asked for company or frienship. Instead he wrapped an arm again around his aching midsection.

"Han Solo," was his answer.

From the corner of his eye he noticed how the broad chest rose and fell in a silent sigh, the outstretched hand dropping to a thick thigh.

"Okay then, Captain Solo, we should take you to a school nurse so they can check on you."

"No."

Time to go.

"Uhm, okay? Then to a doc," Superman insisted. "You should really let someone check on you. This doesn't look good."

"Ugh, no. Don't need anyone asking stupid questions. Can't effort a doc anyway," Dean muttered and stood up.

He regretted it immediately, feeling even more like shit the very second he stood on his feet, but he didn't have much of a choice. Going home was unavoidable anyway, no matter... no matter how much he wanted to go somewhere else, run as fast and as far as he only could.

Well, running anywhere wasn't an option at the moment, was it? He would end up lying flat on his face on the concrete after twenty meters at best.

"You can't go like thi..."

"I said no. Gotta go now."

One step and a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. He groaned quietly.

"At least lemme give you a ride," Superman... no wait, Roman... said.

Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Dean tilted his head a little, gazing at him with narrowed eyes because he just didn't understand what this guy actually _wanted_.

"Nothing better to do than being a pain in the ass, man?"

"Just trying to fulfill my pensum of good deeds for the day," Roman smiled. "Come on, I won't tell anyone."

The hand vanished from his shoulder then. The smile stayed on Roman's face though and there was sincerity lying in his features. And a message. Trust me.

Yeah, sure.

Really, he didn't need this kind of problem because it _would_ be a problem if he allowed this. Questions and answers. Answers he did not have... or rather he couldn't give. Didn't want to.

But maybe he was only misinterpreting the situation and Roman was really only being nice, without the intention of trying to make friends here?

Whatever.

A ride home wouldn't kill him, would it? He doubted anyway that Roman would let him go, would probably follow him like a homeless dog if he simply walked off now.

Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed: "Okay..."

Ten minutes later he sat in the car, staring at the big glass front of a drugstore in which Roman had vanished. I'll be right back, he had said and at Dean's quirked eyebrow he had added very insistently: Wait. Here.

He wasn't sure if this, being here in Superman's car, was something he should or would regret and maybe he should get out as long as the other man was still in there, but walking actually wasn't a very attractive idea right now. His head was still pounding and his whole body ached and he was quite honestly exhausted.

Resting his head against the headrest, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. What his mind showed him was Superman's worried eyes. Honest worry. He snorted lightly. The guy had much of an oversized Saint Bernard's puppy, including all big paws and fluffy fur. And he had guts. Well, he was Superman after all, wasn't he?

The sound of a door being opened mande him blink and look over. Roman was back with a small bag that he emptied on his legs. Some gauze, desinfection, ointment and plaster came to lie there.

"Uhm, what's this going to be?" Dean asked warily as he watched Roman preparing several butterfly stitches and putting some desinfection on the gauze.

Turning around to Dean, the other man said: "We'll get you patched up now."

"Uh, no?" Dean muttered.

"Uh, yes?" Roman replied. "You look like a heap of minced meat, dude. You've got cuts and scratches all over your face. It'll scar if you don't treat it right."

What about this last sentence caused him a noticeable sting in his chest, he didn't know. Fact was, it _did_ sting. But maybe it wasn't Superman's comment but his own answer...

"I've got so many of them, those few won't make a difference."

Indifference coated his voice but the taste the words left behind on his tongue was bitter.

For a moment there was silence between them, a silence that was thick and while they only gazed at each other, Dean saw so many things go on in those grey eyes that he wasn't able to name them. All he knew was that it caused his heart to pick up the pace for a few seconds.

He'd never before seen such expressive eyes.

That odd thought made him break gazes then, left him searching for a safe spot to look at and that spot happened to be the rearview mirror. What mirrored there was his own tired eyes and a cut in his right brow. Blood. Scratches on his temples, his forehead. Bruises on his cheeks. Not all of them fresh... Nothing he hadn't seen before, but something he was sick of. So sick.

"Still haven't fulfilled my pensum of good deeds," he heard Roman say quietly. "Come on, let me do this."

His gaze shifted, found Roman's eyes in the mirror. The other man still looked straight at his face, waiting. Stubbornly being all Mr. Goody Two Shoes.

"You're really a pain in the ass, you know?" he snorted without much amusement lying in it and he knew Roman heard it, too.

That said, he turned his face towards the other man, leaning a bit closer to let him play nurse. He gave a nod and received a smile for it. And then Roman began to clean his face in a ridiculously gentle way. The minor scratches burned a little and the slight pressure on the bruises hurt a bit. It was bearable though, but...

"Fuck," he muttered at a sharp sting as the desinfection came in contact with the cut in his brow and involuntary he drew away.

"Sit still."

"That hurts like bitch, man!" Dean complained, lifting his hand to the cut because it fucking burned like hell.

His hand was caught off before he could touch it.

"Stop being a cry-baby, dude. Pulling the Chuck Norris on a bunch of goons and now you're whining about a wee bit of burning?" Roman teased, releasing the caught hand as Dean pulled it away.

"A wee bit? Fuck you! It fucking feels like my face is falling off!"

Roman shook his head slightly while puffing a soft laughter, placing a plaster over the cut.

"Don't touch it. It'll only start bleeding again," he instructed, continuing with his task.

The touches became even more gentle if possible and his eyes narrowed in concentration while his bottom lip got caught between his teeth. After a moment he seemed so lost in what he was doing there, that Dean dared to take a closer look at him. A real look, because all the time he had seen him, but hadn't really _looked_ at him.

Roman was only a bit taller than him but he was definitely broader built, all muscles. Massive. His face was all strong lines and square jaw. Distinctive. Goddamn handsome. A dark beard, framing his mouth, making him look much older than he was... Dean guessed that Roman was as old as he himself was, about seventeen and a bit... Lush, kissable lips. Long, black hair. Hair that looked velvety. Bronze toned, smooth looking skin. On his right arm there was a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt and also a little from under the collar. Black lines. Not a typical tribal tho, much more... filigree. But what caught him most were those _eyes_...

Under different circumstances and in another life he would have tried to hit on Roman but he was here in this life and the circumstances weren't different and this was the type of guy who usually didn't happen to be gay. Sadly.

He already saw the girls in school draw numbers and line up to get a piece of Roman. Superman would soon be a star at school.

"Do I have something sticking to my face?" Roman murmured while carefully placing the butterfly stitches on various spots on Dean's face.

"You're not making friends by helping me," Dean replied dryly.

Frowning Roman leaned back, eyeing his work while asking: "What do you mean?"

"Those assholes are gonna tell anyone who wants to hear it that you, you know, helped me."

Shrugging his shoulders, Roman stuffed the remaining ointment, desinfection and plasters back into the bag and handed it over to Dean.

"Here, you'll need it," he said, locking gazes with Dean. "As for them telling the world what I have done today... they can make flyer and poster about it if they want to. I don't care what the world thinks about it. I do what I think is the right thing to do and if someone has a problem with it, they can kiss my ass. And I think helping you _was_ the right thing to do." His eyes roamed Dean's face once more, then dropped briefly to his midsection that was held protectively covered by an arm and found back up to his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Dean replied lowly, his fingers tightening their hold on the bag a little more because Roman's forthright statement had been... it was... it was making him weak.

It shouldn't be like this. He had fought so hard to be strong all this time, fought every day and now all it took was a bit of help from Superman, a little bit of being patched up by Mr. Goody Two Shoes and a handful of nice words from Roman Reigns to make him weak?

And here it was again, that message he'd seen written on Roman's face not long ago.

Trust me.

"Anything you need?" Roman wanted to know, tilting his head a bit the side in question.

Don't ask me that.

"No."

Roman nodded slightly.

"Okay then, I'm gonna drop you off at your place now."

He watched as Roman shifted in his seat, reached out to start the car... and hesitated. The fingers stayed closed around the steering wheel and the key as he paused, eyes fixed on some random spot on the dashboard in front of him. His nostrils were flaring and the muscles of his jaw jumped. And then Roman turned his head ever so slightly towards Dean... those grey eyes pondering. But whatever Roman wanted to say or do, he bit it back, starting the car without another word.

The ride was quiet until Dean told Roman to stop and let him out only a few minutes later. They hadn't reached Dean's place yet, but he didn't want Roman to know... and see... where he lived. Muttering a _thanks_ Dean opened the car door and had already put a foot on the ground as Roman's voice stopped him.

"See you at school tomorrow, Han Solo."

And now it was Dean who hesitated, remaining unmoving for a second or two. He could say yes. Or he could do what was the right thing to do. For both of them.

"Stay away from me, Reigns," he murmured... because that was the right thing to do, right?

A hand settled on his forearm. Its touch was gentle. _Gentle_. A word that had been banned from his vocabulary for what felt like forever. Until today...

"Is that what _they_ think I should do?" he heard Roman rumble. "Or is it what _you_ want?"

_Don't fucking ask me that..._

Pulling his arm out of the hold, he said just above a whisper: "Just... stay away."

With that he got out of the car, not waiting for another word. He wanted to get away before he lost control over the situation. More than he had already. His fingers cumpled the paper of the bag as he tightened his hold on it while walking into a back road and out of Roman's sight and while his feet kept carrying him towards his apartment, his mind replayed the last hour again and again.

Trust me.

And if he did trust Roman? No. Roman was one of those kids who were new and became popular faster than other people changed their socks. Liked by all the _cool_ kids at school. Roman seemed to be a nice guy but it wasn't fun to be a target at school and sooner or later Roman would be sick of being a target if he hung out with him.

He'd been dropped too often already by the hands which had been held out to him.

No more...

His steps slowed down as he reached the stairs to his aparment, walking them up with reluctance and for a full minute he stood at the door, staring at it. Like he did every single time. It was hard to breathe deeply against the vice grip around his chest...

Eventually he opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped into the apartment, sneaking over to his room. The stench of stale beer was hanging heavily in the air. It was the dimmed sound of the running TV that told Dean that _he_ was at home. But maybe, with a bit of luck, _he_ was sleeping, wouldn't notice him being at home. At least not yet. Or maybe not even until he could sneak out again tomorrow morning.

Being beaten up once a day was enough...

Slowly he pushed the door to his room open, his eyes briefly falling on the lock that had gotten broken months ago already. _He_ had done that. To make sure Dean wouldn't be able to lock him out.

The creaking of the door angle seemed deafening loud, so much louder than the TV, making his heart trip. He flinched hard as he heard the sound of a bottle falling to the floor, followed by heavy steps. His name was being growled.

Roman's words were echoing in his ears while his gaze dropped to he bag in his hand,

_Here, you'll need it._

A dark smile spread on his lips as the steps stopped right behind him.

_You have no idea, _he thought as a hand closed around his shoulder painfully, forcing him around...

- tbc -

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><p><strong>Oookay, that was the start. Tell me what you think?<strong>


	2. Captain Solo

Wooow! Thank you so much for your reviews, guys! I'm still speechless XD

Actually I wouldn't have guessed that it would get that much feedback at all, so you all made me av ery happy girl here ;3

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><p>The sun was shining brightly, bathing the world below in warmth. Roman was sprawling on a bench with his head tilted back, eyes closed as he let the sunshine rain down on him. The school yard was filled with busyness and music here and there and the more or less steady sound of basketballs hitting the ground. The break had just begun, so there quite a bit of time left for his sunbath and also to get his mind to cling to other things than... Han Solo.<p>

With a quiet _oof_ someone flopped down beside him, giving his thigh a friendly clap.

"Thought you've got lost somewhere, dude," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at the newcomer.

Seth. Seth Rollins. They were in the same class and in most of the optional subjects, too, and ever since Roman had joined this school a bit more than a week ago, they were spending most of the day together. It was as if they knew each other for years already. To Roman it felt like he'd found his lost baby brother.

And on top of it all Seth was... eye-candy. Shoulder long, for the most part dark hair except that blond patch on the right side of his head. Athletically slender, well toned, a bit shorter than Roman himself. A surprisingly thick beard growth for his age. Big, brown eyes. Pretty face. Funny, intelligent. Most of the time his hair was a little messy and it made him look too damn cute.

"Funny, Reigns," Seth said, throwing a lunch box at him. "Taking a piss and fetching your lunch from the other end of the fucking building just because you're too lazy to move your butt takes a while."

With a grunt Roman sat up straight, opening the lunch box to let his eyes wander over its content to decide whether he should eat a sandwich with ham or salami.

"You really made that essay for the Spanish class, didn't you?" Seth asked, shifting until he was sitting cross-legged on the bench.

"Yups," Roman replied, picking a ham sandwich.

"It was your first day and you've been spending the whole Spanish class at the principal's office for document shit. Miss Garcia said you don't need to do the essay and you have nothing better to do with your time than doing it nevertheless?" Seth snorted and shook his head while pointing at him with a banana. "Huh, the lady will love you."

He grinned and was just about to bite into his sandwich, as his eyes caught... _him_... finally, because he'd been looking out for him the whole morning and so he paused, the sandwich halfway to his already opened mouth while his eyes stayed fixed on the walking figure.

Han Solo.

Dean. Seth had told him that Han Solo's name was Dean...

"Watching your damsel in distress?" he heard Seth chuckle.

Roman blinked and watched as Dean kicked an empty coke can out of the way to sit down on the ground, leaning against the building while drawing his knees up. He was wearing shades and an unbuttoned black and white lumberjack shirt with something that looked much like a black wife beater underneath. And blue jeans, torn at the knees. Doc Martens. The blond hair was messy, some strands falling unruly into his forehead. It all, it made him look as tough as it made him look hot. And goddamn cute.

But there was a bad taste lingering in it, because Dean had been limping. That limping though should have been gone already because the collision with chief goon and his colleagues had been four days ago. Maybe not enough time for the bruises and the cuts to heal, yet enough time for the limping to fade.

It hadn't.

And the fact that Dean hadn't been at school in the past four days didn't make it any better.

Roman wasn't sure what to think about all this, but what he knew was that it gave him a bad feeling.

Dean...

The words had been spread pretty quickly that Roman had been helping the _school freak_ and although he'd been waiting for negative reactions from the other students, it had only been a few raised eyebrows he'd gotten for it. But even if there had been more, he couldn't have cared less.

He had never been the type of guy who watched people being bullied or ganged up on.

Helping Dean had been the right thing to do. And really... he couldn't remember having done anything that had felt _that right_ in his entire life.

... _Dean_...

It's been Dean's eyes what had caught him that first time their gazes locked. Blue eyes and pain had been written in them. Tired eyes. But without the faintest trace of fear or surrender.

Tough.

Even lying there after being beaten up badly, Dean had fought back, had tried to take them down somehow. Roman had seen it. And then instead of getting out of the line of fire, Dean had climbed to his feet, knowing that they might lose the fight. He'd risked another beating although he'd been in pain and almost too exhausted to even stand upright.

Four days. He'd spend four days with thinking about Dean, hoping every day he would get a chance to talk to him at school. Or maybe even after school because although Dean had told him to stay away, he didn't believe that it really was what the other man wanted. Actually... his eyes had been saying something else...

His chest was still tightening every time his mind showed him the picture of Dean, all bloody and bruised. Limping. And some of the bruises, scratches and cuts hadn't been fresh, what meant that either Dean was either the type who asked for trouble or... or the type who did not ask for it, still ended up being in trouble and didn't back down.

However... that day he'd felt like taking him home with him and make it good. Somehow.

Hell, he didn't even know Dean and he already... he had crush on him.

Roman puffed a soundless little laughter.

If you looked for the word pretty in a dictionary, it wouldn't be a picture of Dean you'd find there. Dean wasn't _pretty_. He rather was the epitome of raw beauty. Handsome. That rough tinge in his features, it made him... hot. And if you wiped all the bad boy attitude aside and took a look at what was lying underneath, then you noticed kissable lips and sexy bedroom eyes, shining with a faithful glow. Soft features and a warmth that was lying in them. Roman had seen it there in his car, when Dean's guarded expression had wavered, always only briefly though.

Four days of thinking about Dean and how he would get past his defense and to that _real_ Dean who was protected with all the other man had to put up. He wanted to get to know him better. Needed to.

Yes, this guy fascinated him. And fuck, he... huh, he had a crush on Dean... a goddamn fucking crush...

The sandwich was being taken out of his hand and it was what made him snap back to the here and now and when he looked over to Seth, he was greeted by a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"Stop staring holes into the poor guy," Seth sniggered, shaking his head softly.

"How good do you know him?" Roman murmured, his eyes instantly seeking Dean again.

"Mmh not really good. We've talked a few times, yeah, but he's... difficult. He doesn't have friends as far as I know. Most of the others here shun him but it seems that he wants to be all on his own anyway," Seth shrugged, peeling a banana.

"Is that so?" Roman hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He looks like the perfect mix of James Dean and John Bender," he added, more to himself than to Seth though.

"John who?" Seth asked, the words muffled by a mouthful of banana.

Tilting his head a little, Roman let his eyes wander over the sitting man who was drawing his knees a little more up, resting his forearms on them. Dean had his fingers interlaced and one of his thumbs was tapping an unsteady rhythm. His head was dipped back against the wall behind him.

"The Breakfast Club?" he said, not taking his eyes off of Dean. "John Bender? Shades, half-long and dark hair? Jeans, lumberjack shirt, denim jacket and heavy boots?"

And affirmative grunt told him that Seth finally got who he meant.

"Only that he doesn't look the least bit like them," Seth snorted, stuffing the next piece of banana in his mouth.

"Huh?"

"His face. He's far from being a James Dean or Judd Nelson."

"What... no. I don't mean his face, I mean his _looks_. It all. His style, you know? His clothes, his demeanor. Being the cool, rough and tough bad boy and all that."

"I guess lone wolf fits better. But careful, Rome, this wolf bites."

Roman watched as a group of five guys walked right towards Dean and he was already about to head over as he saw them turn a bit to their right to vanish through a door. He released a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. It was Seth's quiet chuckle that caught his attention and frowning he finally glanced over to his friend.

"What's so funny?"

"Almost looks as if you have a crush on him," Seth mumbled through some more banana.

Turning his head towards Seth, he gave him a smile that was as soft as it was serious as he replied: "Might be because I _do_ _have_ a crush on him."

The next thing he did was flipping the banana pieces from his shirt and thighs that Seth coughed out as he almost choked on the bite he had been chewing on. Still trying to actually breathe again, Seth stared at Roman who nodded. Brown eyes widened, becoming impossibly big. His features smoothed in realisation that Roman was actually serious about it.

"You..." Again some coughing and then, still somewhat choked: "You're gay?"

Snatching a bottle of water from his backpack, Roman held it out towards him.

Frowning, Roman replied: "Yeah. That a problem for you?

"I... what? No! Nono, I don't have a problem with you being into guys," Seth quickly assured, taking a bottle for a hearty gulp. "You just don't, uhm... look... gay...?"

The frown on Roman's face morphed to an amused expression as he chuckled: "How do you think do gays look usually? All clad in pink or what?"

"Uhm... no, I just... dunno," the other man mumbled sheepishly. "Your teammates will be a little suprised though that their defense tackle swings the other way."

"They gotta live with it," Roman shrugged. And then he shot Seth a broad grin. "I could ask the coach for a pink gear. Would that make me look gay enough for your taste?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Reigns, I get it. Huh, gives _spear him_ a whole new meaning..." Still grinning, Roman flipped him the bird and gazed back to Dean, who hadn't moved an inch. "But really," he heard Seth add quietly. "Out of all people you go and pick that construction site of a guy? Ambrose spells trouble."

"Ever thought about that maybe he just needs a friend? A real one?"

"Ever thought about that he maybe, _just maybe_ doesn't _want_ a friend? Not even a _real_ one?" Seth pointed out.

Roman nodded slightly and once again shrugged his shoulders then.

"He told me to stay away, yeah, but he didn't look like he really means it," he murmured.

"U-hu. So your plan is, what, to _friend_ him to death now?"

"Exactly that." Snapping the lunch box shut, he gave Seth's thigh a clap, grabbed his backpack and got up. "You coming?" he asked, already starting to walk over to an unsuspecting Dean.

"Coming? What... hey! Where the heck are you...? Reigns...!" Seth called, stopping mid-sentence to groan loudly.

The sound of quick steps indicated that Seth was catching up with him.

"Why am I even asking?" he heard him grumble. "Just try not to beam too much at him."

"That obvious?" Roman frowned.

"Oh, nono, _except_ that you have this silly smile on your face when you look at him."

Roman felt his ears heat up and unfortunately he couldn't blame the sun for it.

"Oooh, someone's being embarrassed here!"

"Not funny, Rollins..."

"Actually it is _pretty_ funny, bro."

The short distance was passed quickly and as they reached Dean, it seemed as if he was oblivious of their presence, at least for another few seconds and due to the shades he was wearing, Roman wasn't sure whether he had his eyes closed or if he actually saw them and simply tried to ignore them. There was a muttered _get out of my sun_.

"Hello to you, too, Captain Solo," Roman greeted him and lowered himself down to the ground in front of him.

Seth followed suit, gazing back and forth between them curiously. Dean froze a second, sighed then and dipped his head forward while pulling the shades off. One could have said that it was like grasping at straws here, but Roman felt a happy tingling in his chest to see that it wasn't a _fuck_ _off_ expression on the other man's face but a mildly surprised and rather positive one. Much as if Dean hadn't expected him to stick to his words.

"Haven't I told you to stay away?"

"Yup," he replied grinning.

There was a twinkling in those blue eyes. Not annoyance but something... nice.

"Why am I not surprised?" Pursing his lips, Dean looked over to Seth. "Did he force you to be his friend, too?"

"It's not that bad to be friends with him," Seth shrugged and stole a sandwich from the lunch box which Roman had just opened again. "Although he's a bit annoying and stubborn at times."

Delivering a friendly smack to the back of Seth's head, Roman grumbled: "Snap your mouth shut, you little shit."

Light sniggering from Seth and the following short absence of words was filled with the sound of a growling stomach, coming from Dean's direction and it caused Roman to hold the lunch box out towards him.

"Uhm... no, thanks."

"Take. One."

"No..."

"Just take a sandwich. We both know he'll bug you until you do take one anyway," Seth chimed in.

"It isn't poisoned, you know?" Roman added, holding the box right under Dean's nose.

"No, 's yours."

"Man, you're one stubborn mule, Ambrose. Just take a fucking sandwich. My mom made too many anyway."

"Your mom still makes you lunch for school?" Dean muttered incredulously, finally picking a sandwich from the box.

"Well, yeah. Good for me, so I can haul my ass out of bed at the last minute."

The glance Dean gave the sandwich was wary. He blinked... and carefully took a bite, as if he still wasn't sure if it really was edible. And then he practically inhaled the poor thingy, taking a second one as Roman again held the lunch box out to him.

For the rest of the break they kept sitting there and while Seth and Roman were chatting busily, Dean was quiet most of the time, only saying a word when one of them asked him something. Sometimes he even only gave a grunt or a hum. The way he sat there, leaning against the wall with his knees still drawn up and his arms resting in his lap, with his head dipped back and his eyes half closed while gazing at them a bit absentmindedly... Roman couldn't help but think that Dean looked... exhausted. As if he hadn't been sleeping for days.

Roman stole glances, every time Dean looked at Seth or somewhere else and there hidden under the lumberjack shirt yet peeking out from under it a bit there were shadows. Like... bruises. Not the old ones from that day he'd found him lying on the ground but... those he saw there now, they looked fresher. And there on his face, his neck and chest and arms, weren't there new scratches? It all matched the limping that should have been much better already.

The expression on the other man's face ranged from uninterested over neutral to mildly amused and given the fact that Dean made no move to get up and leave, being in their company seemed not to be all to bad for him and slowly the mood that was hanging in the air between them became comfortable. Maybe also because the focus wasn't lying on Dean, he didn't feel the urge to leave.

Still there were those two times Roman's and Dean's gazes locked that were different. It was the tinge that was lying in the sky blue orbs, inquiring, pondering... making him feel weighed, valued and not yet labeled as okay.

It was the bell that eventually called them to get up from their sunbathed spot and as they made their way back into the building, with Seth chattering at his right side and Dean walking silently two steps ahead of them, he wished that he could take just one single glance at what was going on behind those walls Dean was trying to keep up to fiercely...

About one and a half hour later the world saw an absentminded Roman heading for his car, releasing a faraway sounding _bye_ into the air every time he passed someone he knew. The last class had been Spanish and it had been a pleasant surprise that Dean was in that class, too. Less pleasant had been to see that as everyone went to the teacher to give her the essay that had been homework, it was only Dean who did not go to her. Less pleasant because her first words when she came in had been that if Dean hadn't done homework this time, that he would be in big trouble.

Seth had shot Roman a frown as he gave him the essay he'd written, whispering to him to give it the teacher and tell her that it was Dean's.

He still couldn't file the stare Dean had given him the moment he'd realised what Roman had just done...

With a sigh Roman retrieved the key of his car from his pocket... and slowled down as his eyes fell on a figure, leaning against his car.

Dean.

His heart fluttered.

He swallowed hard, heaved another sigh and straigthened up as he kept walking towards his car. The worst thing that could happen was Dean telling him to fuck off and to be honest, it wouldn't stop him to get past the other man's defense.

"What do you want?" Dean asked lowly, not moving a inch, not gazing up to him.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that? You're the one who's waiting for me at my car," Roman replied, slowly approaching the other man.

"You fucking _know_ what I mean, Reigns!"

Now Dean did look up and although his voice was sharp and like a verbal shove, actually really stopping him, it was once more what Roman saw in those blue eyes that told him... that something was hiding behind the _fuck off_ demeanor.

For a second they only gazed at each other.

Faithful eyes...

"I like you," Roman said because... why _not_ saying it?

He took another step closer... and he lifted a hand to gingerly touch a dark bruise on the other man's cheek. Dean flinched. _Hard_. His eyes widened slightly. And then Roman's hand was slapped away.

_Fuck_, Roman thought, not sure what was worse: the fact that he simply had touched Dean without asking if it was okay or that Dean had flinched like that because of careful touch.

"Don't you fucking touch my face!" Dean growled and turned away.

Two steps later Roman managed to move, catching up with him with two big strides to lay a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to stop him. What he got was a handful of the shirt, the collar being pulled down the other man's shoulder a little and...

... bruises... not older than... a day or two maybe...

"Dean, wait!" he urged, begged even.

It _hurt_ him to see it and he wanted to apologize and he wanted to ask what had happened... but he didn't get the chance to say another word.

With a quiet and hoarse cry on his lips Dean spun around... and his fist connected with Roman's jaw. Pain exploded in Roman's face while he stumbled backwards, ending up sitting on his ass on the ground and with a groan he covered the left side of his face with his hand. Screwing his eyes shut against the pain, he expected Dean to use the chance and leave, but there was no sound of steps, only of ragged breathing, coming from the other man.

Quietness, for a few seconds.

Dean was still there.

With a sigh Roman looked at the other man who... kneeled. Dean kneeled on the ground like frozen, slightly bowed bowed forward while holding his middle. His shoulders were hunched and tense and he was breathing fast. His backpack was lying on the ground beside him and his lumberjack shirt had slipped down a little, now revealing the whole shoulder. Bruises. Scratches...

Dean side-glanced him and those baby blues... I didn't want that. It stood there. Roman could see it.

Rubbing his sore jaw, Roman got up from the ground and slowly, oh so slowly approached Dean until there was barely a meter between them left and hesitantly he kneeled down, too.

He wouldn't give up now.

"Who did that?" he asked quietly, balling his hands to fists to keep himself from touching him. No answer. "Dean, I really do like you and..."

"Why?" Dean interrupted him, his voice just above a whisper.

"Why not?" Roman replied softly and inched a tad closer. "What's wrong with your stomach?"

No answer again although Dean obviously was in pain. Maybe sore ribs and a wrong movement as he'd thrown the punch...? His eyes found back to the bruised shoulder and although he knew better, he reached out and tugged the shirt back in place, covering the evidence of something that should never have happened. Again Dean flinched.

"Let me be your friend, Dean."

He watched as Dean seemed to sag a little, his head dipping forward so he couldn't see what was going on on Dean's face.

"I don't care what people say about you and I don't give a flying fuck if they're okay with us being friends. I'm not gonna let you drop because they think you're the wrong guy to hang out with," Roman added, allowing his hand to rest on the other man's shoulder. This time he did not flinch. "But if _you_ _really_ don't want it, then look me in the eye, tell me to go and I won't bother you again."

He waited, seconds which seemed endlessly long and although it was a good sign that Dean was hesitating instead of directly looking at him and telling him to go, it still felt like Dean was about to slip from his fingers.

Not that he'd ever really had gotten a hold on him, had he?

"You... huh, you really are a pain in the ass, Reigns..." Dean muttered eventually, looking back up to Roman with weariness dulled eyes which flicked over his face... as if Dean tried to find a hint that this was a joke or... a trap maybe.

It took Roman a moment to understand that this was maybe the closest to an _okay_ he would get. His heart jumped a little bit.

"You'll get used to it," Roman smiled softly.

And wasn't there the faintest of smiles, too, ghosting on Dean's lips? A bit unbelievingly maybe, but at least not bitter.

Dean was giving him a chance. It was a start...

The sudden dull growling from the major direction of Dean's stomach made Roman frown and Dean mutter something under his breath.

"How about we go and grab a burger?" Roman suggested.

Shaking his head, Dean grumbled: "No..."

"Come on, I'm inviting you," Roman said, standing up and he saw Dean open his mouth to protest, obviously, because it was written all over his face. "I'm not gonna discuss about it," he added before Dean could actually say it aloud.

Dipping his head forward, Dean shook it slightly no while something between a laughter and a snort fell from his lips, before he moved to get up. Roman held a hand out towards him, both to help him up and to seal the deal, and when the other man's gaze fell on it, there was the briefest flicker of doubt in those blue orbs. He knew that this wouldn't be the last time he'd seen it. Doubt. Wariness. The walls this man had built around himself were strong and Roman guessed that the marks he saw on Dean only were tiny traces of the real extent of what he had endured... and still did.

And despite it all Dean was tough as nails. No retreat, no surrender.

Still... there was so much more behind what he showed the world that he was and he was protecting it with teeth and claws.

He wanted to help Dean. How, he wasn't sure. Not yet. Being him a friend was the first step.

A hand closed around his own in a firm grip and he gently pulled the other man up until he was standing again, close, and their hands were still joined. Fact was, if he summed up the effective time they had spent together, then it wasn't even half a day they, well, knew each other. Fact was, Roman didn't want to let go of the warm hand in his own. Fact was also, that his eyes just dropped to those lips which looked soft despite the damage they had taken within the past few days and he felt the urge to find out _how_ soft they really were.

Fact was... he had it bad for Dean...

But instead of doing something tempting and stupid as kissing the man in front of him, he let go of his hand and bent down to pick Dean's backpack up, handing it over to its owner. Something shifted in Dean's eyes, allowing a glance on a mass of things which were going on in this stubborn head. Not that Roman could read it, not yet at least, but he would learn to.

Throwing the backpack over his shoulder, Dean shifted his stance and scratched the back of his head while gnawing at his bottom lip. His other hand was curled around shoulder strap of the backpack. His thumb was tapping it lightly, a bit nervously, too.

"Sorry for, you know, the punch," Dean muttered sheepishly.

"No, 's okay. Kneejerk reaction," Roman shrugged.

"It's just... uhm..." Dean let his hand drop from the mop of blond locks down and stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. "I don't like people touching me or holding on to me..."

And while he said that, his shoulders tensed a bit.

"You told me to keep my hands off and I didn't listen. I'm the one who has to apologize. Sorry, man." Gingerly rubbing his sore jaw, he added grinning: "But fuck, feels like a horse just kicked me in the face." His grin faded with a silent sigh he breathed then, lifting his hand to the other man's shoulder but before he actually touched it, he stopped, merely poiting at it while telling himself to stop touching Dean just like that. "How did that happen?"

"Ran into a fist. Knocked me off my feet before I could kick him in the balls."

Roman bit back a wince. Dean had a note in his voice when he said things like that, an odd and all too sober way, that it ached to hear him speak about it. A certain sickness was taking residence in his guts because the first time he'd met him, Dean had flinched because of a soft touch and this time he'd lost it, had thrown a punch that had been meant to _keep away_. It wasn't a wonder that he didn't want to be touched, was it, when most of the time touches brought pain to him.

"Why did he do that?" Roman said hushed, his hands clenching to fists.

Who _he_ was... he wanted to ask it, but he was sure he wouldn't get an answer to it. He had an idea though.

"Just because," was the rather curt reply.

"Just because," he parroted, furrowing his brows.

"Yeah, fuck, the fucker didn't give a _fucking_ lecture on _why_ he wants to knock my teeth out, man!"

Holding his hand up placatory, Roman said: "Calm down, dude."

"Haven't been spoiling for a fight if that's what you mean, okay?" Dean snapped half-heartedly.

"No, it's not what I meant," Roman replied lowly. "It's just... I mean, just look at you. It shouldn't be like this."

"Huh, yeah, you're fucking _right_. It _shouldn't_ be like this but it fucking _is_ like this and _I can't do a fucking thing about it_..."

Dean trailed off mid-sentence, pressing his lips to a thin line while his features smoothed in a weird way. The nervous tapping of his thumb on the shoulder strap stopped. He looked as if he had just spilled more than he ever wanted to. Exhaling a heavy breath, Dean dipped his head back, closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded much like _goddamn idiot_.

A moment later he met Roman's gaze again, rubbing the back of his neck while mumbling: "Uh, I guess I should thank you. For the essay and, uhm, for saving my ass from chief goon and his men."

"Anytime, Captain Solo..."

It bestowed him a grin and maybe he was only imagining things, but it seemed a wee bit less... guarded... less wary already. It was good. It was fucking worth having a sore jaw.

"Burger?" Roman suggested again but Dean shook his head no.

"Gotta go home."

Dean's grin fell at his own words and Roman couldn't help but ask: "You sure...?"

A nod. The grin stayed away.

"Okay then, I'll give you a ride," he said, this time not bugging Dean for going for a burger because his expression told him that Dean really had to go home... although he probably rather wanted to be going anywhere else... but home...

"Next time maybe," Dean answered, smiling a tiny, crooked smile that was more sad than anything else.

With that Dean turned around to leave and while he was walking away, Roman noticed the limping again and how the other man turned his head just a bit, as if he wanted to gaze back over his shoulder, yet not... as if he was pondering over something or maybe considering to change his mind after all. A hesitating step followed. But he didn't stop, didn't come back.

"See you at school tomorrow, Han Solo!" Roman called after him.

He watched as Dean turned around to him, slowly keeping on walking backwards for a few step while gifting him a smile, an honest one, before turning away again and for long moments Roman kept standing there, gazing after him.

The smile left with Dean. But the images of something that was wrong beyond words... stayed...

- tbc -

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><p><strong>Now, got a few words for me, too? :)<strong>

**A/N:** So, first chapter we've been guest in Dean's head, this time in Roman's. Would you guys like me to keep switching like this or would you rather want the rest of the story from only one of their sides?


	3. Safe Grounds?

Actually... I'm at a loss what to say... All those reviews...

You've made me so, SO happy! Was like birthday and Christmas combined ヽ(' ▽' )ノ

❤ ❤ ❤ Thank you soooooooo much! ❤ ❤ ❤

* * *

><p>His feet carried him over the schoolgrounds and towards the football field were Roman was at the moment. Training. Roman would probably be surprised to see that he actually really dropped by because although having given in to Roman's persistent being friends attempts, Dean had avoided to come and see him train. Maybe because a handful of Roman's teammates had used to beat him up in the past and he wasn't keen on meeting them. Not that he expected them to beat him up right there on the field, but... well... he just could think of better things than watching those bastards, even if it included watching Roman as well.<p>

Roman...

Or maybe, just maybe and if he was really honest with himself... he hadn't come here because there were still doubts left about how Roman would react if his teammates, well, expressed their... displeasure... about them being friends...

Friends... huh, he still wasn't used to that concept. Having a friend. Two friends actually because he'd gotten himself a value pack here. Roman _and_ Seth. Seth was the live and let live type of guy, being a bit weird and nerdy himself, what was probably the reason he simply accepted Dean being... Dean. He didn't push him, didn't bug him with shit. Easy talking. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Dean though that Seth watched him. Or maybe observing was fitting better. He wasn't sure why the little two-toned nerd was doing it. Curiousness probably. Or even jealousy that he had to share Roman. Whatever...

And speaking of the devil, he found Seth sitting in the bleachers, eyes trained on the busyness on the field and Dean slowed down, pondering if he should go over to him or simply stay here. Or if he should turn around and leave. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and dipped his head forward, his gaze dropping to the ground. He could do it. Leave. He had every right not to be here.

His hand dropped to his side and he dipped his head back, closing his eyes as he snorted. About himself. About the whole situation.

There was loud laughter but it was that one low and full voice that stood out of it to his ears that made him look back over to the field and his eyes found Roman instantly. He had his helmet tucked under his arm, just wiping a hand over his face while talking to a smaller guy. He was smiling. A bright smile. A smile that was very different from the ones he gave Dean and now that he thought about it, even the smiles Seth got were different from the ones he received from the big man. Seth got those smiles that were full of the fondness you felt for your best buddy, your brother. The ones Dean got... the quality was different. Thicker with something else that laced into the fondness. _Richer_. If that made sense.

And then suddenly his feet moved on their own accord, bringing him closer to Seth. He sat down beside the other man, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees while his eyes found back to Roman who hadn't noticed him yet. For a moment there was quietness between Seth and him, but he could feel the gaze of those ridiculously big brown eyes on him.

"Have you lost your way?" he heard Seth ask, mild surprise lacing into his voice.

"Trying to be funny, Rollins?" he drawled, not looking over to him.

A snort beside him.

"No, actually I'm just surprised to see you here, you know?"

Shrugging, Dean only said: "Why should I not be here?"

He noticed a movement beside him, saw Seth mirror the way he sat there but he still felt inquiring eyes rest on him.

"Dunno, maybe because for the last two weeks you blocked every single of Roman's attempts to make you come here or to spend some time after school with him?"

It wasn't reproach lying in the words but what Dean heard lying underneath was that him not spending time outside school with Roman had been a topic between Roman and Seth. There was a strange feeling in his chest and he wasn't sure if he wanted to examine further what exactly it was.

"None of your business, Rollins," he replied curtly and received another snort, but this time it was lacking amusement.

"Actually it's pretty much my business because Rome is my friend." Rome. Funny, hearing Seth calling Roman this added to that strange feeling and fuck, no, now he was sure that he didn't want to examine it any further. At least not yet. He couldn't cope with this shit now. "And on top of it all I am the one who has to cheer him up every time you leave him behind as a sad puppy because you run off after school."

"Well, I'm here now, ain't I?" Dean grumbled, shoving a certain guilt aside because he knew Seth had a point there.

"I'm not blaming you or stuff, Ambrose. I'm just stating facts."

"I know," Dean mumbled. "Didn't mean to be an ass, you know? It's just..."

"Don't worry, man, I understand," Seth said gently and Dean wondered if Seth _really_ understood. "You done with school for today?"

"Yup. Ditched sport," he replied, knowing that Seth wanted to chat a little. The kid always wanted to talk, strictly ignoring that Dean was godawful at doing conversation. "Is he doing good down there?" he asked, pointing towards the field.

"Yeah. He's a walking steam hammer," Seth chuckled.

For a moment Dean's eyes followed Roman and as if the guy wasn't already impressive enough, no, the football gear made him look like a walking wall. No interest here in finding out how it would feel to be speared by Superman. The mere idea was ouch enough.

"You're staying until he's done with his training, aren't you?" Dean's only reply was a nod. "Okay, I get it. You're not up for some talking."

And when the hell had he begun to feel bad for dodging unwanted conversation attempts? No fucking reason to feel bad at all. They had talked enough today. A movement beside him caught his attention and he automatically gazed over.

Seth was just leaning down to pick a basketball up that had been lying between his feet, just looking at it for a second or two, before he held it out towards Dean. With a frown, Dean glanced from Seth to the basketball, then back at the other man, trying to figure out what the two-toned nerd expected him to do, say, whatever. The frown became an in question raised eyebrow. And now Seth frowned and Dean began to wonder if his self-chosen hermit-like existens had left him so socially stunted that he wasn't able anymore to understand what people tried to make him understand.

"What?" he muttered, sitting up straight.

"Take the basketball?"

"Why?"

With a sigh Seth took one of Dean's hand and put the ball in it and Dean fought down the urge to yank his hand out of the hold, because he knew that it was just that, a touch. Nothing bad behind it. Another sigh as the other man gazed over to Roman, his eyes lingering there, before looking back at Dean with an even deeper frown on his face and it told Dean that the kid wanted to get something off his chest.

Again, he could simply go now. He had every right not to be here and cope with shit he hadn't signed for.

Although... it wasn't totally the truth, was it? In a way he _had_ signed for this shit by letting Superman put his foot in the door.

"Listen, when Rome told me that he has risked a beating for you and that he wants to be your friend... I admit I had my concerns," Seth began and sadly enough Dean couldn't really blame him for it. He knew about his own bad reputation. A part of it was his own fault because at some point he had begun to bite people away. "Rome is... special. He's like my big brother and I know this sounds corny, but he's caring, honest, loyal and he's the all those good things that makes him the perfect package he is and he goes and chooses the school freak as..." Seth fall silent briefly as Dean puffs a bitter laughter at this oh so lovely petname. "Sorry... look, until recently all I knew about you was your name and what people talk about you."

"And what everyone says must be the truth, huh?" Dean replied carefully neutral.

Once again, he couldn't blame Seth for all this, still it stung to hear it.

"No, but, you know, you're this guy who never talks and looks like he goes for streetfights and..."

"Yeah, funny, thing is just that I've never started one of those fucking brawls, you know? I haven't asked for this shit, Rollins."

"It's not like you're carrying a sign around your neck that tells that you're not..." Again Seth fell silent and Dean watched as the other man took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Sorry, man. Sorry. Really. Fact is, I had my worries that Rome gets out of this hurt in every way this word includes, because all I knew back then was that you're dangerous grounds. And it's not that I _know_ you after two weeks, but what I do know is that you're not the bastard everyone thinks. You're okay. Those people are wrong with what they say about you... as far as I can tell. I like you. I even dare to say that you're my friend although you might be thinking otherwise. I don't know. And Rome... he believes in you, you know? "

Listening to what Seth was telling him had caused a funny and unfamiliar feeling in his guts, to hear how Seth cared for Roman and that Seth actually considered Dean as a friend. It felt... good... to hear it. Both. And it was a precious thing to have someone caring for you like Seth did for Roman...

_... or Roman does for you..._ a small voice in the back of his mind whispered.

But it all, it paled in comparison to what that damn last sentence kicked off in him. He wanted to stop it the very first moment he felt it, but it fucking didn't work and here he sat, feeling as if a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and with an odd tingling in his stomach and he wished Seth would've kept this to himself, because he wasn't ready to cope with shit like that. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest as his mind replayed that last sentence. An all too familiar, very light trembling ran through him, accompanied with a fuzzy feeling. Fight or flight. But this wasn't something he should fight, couldn't even if he would have wanted to. And that rational part in him told him to fucking stay where he was because if sure as hell also wasn't something he should be running away from. All his life he had wished for someone to fucking believe in him and now Roman came stomping into his life and did exactly that and... it fucking scared the shit out of Dean. His heart began to thump harder.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, he dipped his head a little forward and turned his face away from the other man. The last thing he needed now was that Seth would see how much this all messed with him. The little shit had to go and unleash that bomb at him while looking at him with those ridiculously big brown bambi eyes.

_Fuck._ He tried to keep his breathing calm, willed the trembling to go away. _Fucking shit._

"Rome and I wanted to play some basketball after he's done with his training," he heard the kid say quietly.

"Good for you," Dean replied even quieter because he didn't trust his voice not to give away how he felt.

"Yeah... but I think that he would be happy if he got to spent some time with you alone," Seth added. "Tell him my mom called because she needs help with whatever. Okay?"

A rustling told him that Seth was grabbing his stuff.

"I didn't agree, did I?" he muttered, still not looking back at Seth.

"No, but over the past two weeks I got the feeling that you like him and if you do, then you'll stay here, wait for him and give him at least a little something back for what he puts up to be a good friend for you. I know that you're not an asshole, so don't act like one, Dean."

Little shit. Looking so innocently but then he opened his mouth and pushed buttons he shouldn't even know about. I haven't asked him to be the good friend. He tasted the words on his tongue and it was what he would have said not long ago, but now those words tasted wrong.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, okay."

More rustling and the fact that the sun was blocked from him told him that Seth had gotten up, but he wasn't moving. A few seconds of quietness and the intense gaze still not leaving him made him look up to Seth eventually.

"Promise. Because Roman has really been sad that you're refusing to spend time with him," Seth demanded softly. "And I don't want to come to school tomorrow and see him sad again, bro."

"Promise."

"Good."

But instead of leaving, Seth just stood there for another few seconds, hesitating or rather pondering? Again Dean couldn't read it on the other man's face. Ugh, had been easier not to have people around.

"There's something else..." Seth began, gnawing at his bottom lip. "I don't know what made you be like you are and obviously you have trust issues. But believe me when I say that Roman is safe ground for you. Everyone around here knows already that if they mess with you, that they'll have to deal with Roman. And he would rather cut his right hand off than doing or saying something that could hurt, disappoint or harm you."

And here Seth had dropped the next bomb and fuck, he fucking wanted to ask Seth _why_. _Why_ was Roman doing all that? _Why_ was he so attached to someone he didn't really know and was shunned by everyone, because it didn't made a damn _sense_. Only that he didn't get his tongue to form the words, but Seth saved him by being better at reading expressions than he himself.

Shrugging his shoulders Seth said: "I have no idea, Dean. It is like this and sometimes it's better to be happy about a good thing instead of thinking it to death. Well... see you tomorrow then."

That said Seth turned around and climbed down the bleachers, leaving him sitting here with more facts than he could deal with. The absence of Seth's voice allowed a buzzing in his ears to inch into focus, caused by his heart that was pounding hard enough now to make his body quiver ever so slightly with every single of its beats.

When had the idea of receiving any kind of affection and kindness become more frightening than the thought of getting a beating?

Fucking pathethic coward...

Weak. Roman... made him weak, had opened a fucking chest full of golden things right in front of his nose, things he had to live without for so long already that he'd forgotten how they tasted and felt.

It was still hard though to simply trust this man and let him in. Maybe because Roman had put his fingers on the door to that hidden corner deep within him where he had locked himself away to get through the time until he was old enough to escape hell. And that door was only a crack open and it had already become so much harder to deal with his _life_. The one outside the time with Roman.

He didn't want Roman in his life. Yet at the same time... he had never wanted anything more.

Fuck, why had all this to be so goddamn hard?

Seth was right. Roman _was_ safe grounds. He knew that.

For the last two weeks his mind had been latching onto this man. Again and again and again until his head hurt and he'd been feeling sick from not knowing what to do.

At least it had dimmed the bodily pain he had to take during that time. Not much but enough to make it a little more bearable. And while he had been lying curled up on the ground too often again, the first thing that had come to his mind had been how Roman would look at him the next day the moment he would notice the fresh bruises.

Worried. Sad. Angry.

But not once had he pushed Dean to tell him about _it_. _Him_. Probably because he already had idea who _he_ was. Instead he would... touch. Along the line Dean had gotten used to the big man's tactile nature towards him, maybe because those touches didn't mean pain but comfort. Those touches were soothing.

Actually he had started to... fuck, he had started to _want_ those touches, just as he wanted those usually sharp grey eyes to look at him with that warmth and the softness Roman allowed to show up when he looked at Dean.

Huh... it was dangerous that he had gotten used to all this, had started to _want_ _all of it_. Like a starving man, clawing for every little crumb that might keep him alive... craving for someone being there...

Big menacing Superman... and yet he was all the soft teddy bear...

And the other students really left him alone ever since the word had spread that Roman and Dean were... friends... now. Roman did everything possible to urge him out of his shell, without being pushy though. And then this man had to go and do _things_. Like, helping him out with homeworks when he hadn't managed to do them... because he had to work at the fucking junkyard again to earn the money _he_ should bring home for their _happy_ little _family_. It was a bit scary that Roman seemed to know when he would show up to class without homework and he still couldn't believe that Mr. Goody Two Shoes wasted his time on doing other people's homework. Just like that. And then the fact that Roman constantly shared his food with him. It was always the first thing he did in the breaks. Holding his food out to Dean before he himself took some of it. Ever since he knew this man, he ate on a more regular basis than he had all the years before.

The thing about all this was... that it left Dean in the middle of his upside down turned life with the fear that he wouldn't be able to measure up to how high Roman had raised the bar...

And his walls, they crumbled.

Roman...

His eyes found back to the men on the field who were listening to the coach. So the training seemed to be over. Blunt nails scratched slowly over the uneven surface of the basketball, while Dean rocked lightly back and forth on the bench he was sitting. There was a slight and nervous twitching in his shoulder. A sharp sting from a cut in his upper lip made him hiss, made him realise that he'd been gnawing at it.

His eyes found Roman in the group. He was listening to the coach like a good boy while reaching back to the black mane which was bound back to tug it open. With a light shake of his head, the big man made the dark strands flow down over his shoulders. And then suddenly the group parted and Roman began to walk towards the bleachers, his eyes roaming, most likely to see where Seth was sitting and as his gaze caugh Dean, his steps faltered briefly while he tilted his head a bit to the side. The next thing Dean saw was the brightest smile he had ever seen on someone's face and he couldn't help but smile, too. This was another thing he had noticed about himself over the past days. His own smiles, those he gave Roman... had become brighter.

Tucking the basketball under his arm, he walked down to meet Roman half-way, taking a deep breath against the nervousness that refused to go away, wouldn't probably for days now until he had stomached what Seth had told him today. Roman quickened his steps, jogged the last few meters and Dean had just put his feet back on the lawn, as Roman came to stand right in front of him.

Now that he was being so close, Roman's smile was almost blinding.

"Good to see you," the big man said happily.

Seemed to be hard for him to hold back not to hug Dean right here and now, because although touching was okay now, hugging was not. For some reason the idea of being wrapped up tightly in a pair of massive arms made Dean feel uncomfortable, even if it was Roman. And Roman seemed to know it.

"You've seen me the whole morning already," Dean snorted, raising an amused eyebrow.

Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Big teddy bear.

"Well then, good to see you being _here_," Roman said then, much quieter and so very softly that it tugged at Dean's already flustered heart.

"I, uhm... yeah, thought I should take a look if you're, you know, doing your job here good," Dean muttered, his eyes jumping from the other man's face to the helmet he held, to the broad chest and eventually back to Roman's eyes.

Damn this man for having those eyes. And a smile like that. Could be used as weapons. Legit. Made him feel too self-conscious. Yeah, fucking weapons...

It was just the moment as Roman opened his mouth to say something, as Dean heard it. And Roman heard it, too. It wasn't spoken all too loud, but still loud enough so as not to go unnoticed by them. Bits and pieces. Fragments of not so nice things that found their way over to them, coming from a small group that stood only a few meters away. Fucking insults, coming from three guys who barely reached the IQ of a caveman. Nothing of it was new to Dean's ears, but he could see on Roman's face that those things fucking hurt him. And how could they hurt Roman... when they were supposed to be hurting Dean?

A shadow cast over this by now familiar face. The square jaw set and nostrils flared slightly while brows furrowed, all of it combining to a picture of sparking rage.

"I shouldn't have come here," Dean muttered as he turned away to leave, chiding himself for being so stupid when he knew better.

A gentle hand on his arm stopped him. The shadow was still there on Roman's face, but the gaze he directed at Dean was soft.

"Don't say that. You wait here. Gonna be back in a minute," Roman growled, making his way over to his teammates.

For a moment the conversation was so quiet that Dean couldn't hear anything, but the way Roman stared at them, darkly, _angry_, was telling about what was going on there. But then the voices became a bit louder, just loud enough that Dean could hear them.

"What the fuck, Reigns, you can't be serious, right? Ambrose?"

"Careful. You and me, we've gotten along good all he time but Dean is my _friend_."

"Friend? Wrong choice, bro."

"I don't care what you think, _bro_." And here he was again. Superman. Not as intimidating as he'd been that day he'd come to help Dean, but surely intimidating enough to make two of them take a step back. "I suggest you and the guys leave him alone from now on."

With that Roman came back over to him, not giving them a chance to say one more word. That smile was back on his face the moment he reached Dean, not as bright maybe, but still bright enough to make Dean wonder what he saw in him that could earn such a smile.

Too good for this world fool. Fucking blind, too, obviously. Needed some glasses to see the reality.

"Okay then, just let me grab a quick shower and..." The smile was replaced by a confused expression. Letting his eyes roame the bleachers, Roman asked: "Where is Seth by the way?"

So Dean's presence here must really have been a big surprise for him, given that he had just now noticed that Seth wasn't here anymore. It didn't help the guilt Dean felt a bit.

"Oh, uh... Seth's mom called that she needs help with whatever. And, uhm, I thought we, you know, could do some basketball?" Dean explained, balancing the ball on the tip of his index finger.

The smile flashed up again, brought a sparkling to the grey eyes and just like that it wiped Dean's concetration on balancing the ball away. The ball dropped to the ground with a dull thud and Dean bent down quickly to pick it up.

"Weapons," he muttered barely audibly as he straigthened up again, ignoring the in question raised eyebrow that greeted him...

Not even fifteen minutes later the sound of the basketball hitting the ground rather rythmically bounced off of the walls of a rather secluded corner of the school yard and muttered curses about losing the ball and crowing about won points accompanied it. Dean's mind had been occupied with various things already ever since he'd decided not to go home and watch Roman's training instead, not least because of what Seth had told him, but ever since they had come here to shoot some hoops, his mind was spinning.

And that... huh, it was all Superman's fault. He had come out to play a little with Dean, leaving Mr. Goody Two Shoes in his sportsbag meanwhile. For someone as big and massive as Roman, he moved, although not very graceful, surprisingly quick, just like this very moment. Sidestepping Dean, he made the Air Jordan. Impertinent. Fair would have been if someone of his weight stayed planted to the ground. Fucking physics, damnit. Heavy things weren't supposed to fly.

But then again he was Superman, wasn't he?

The ball bounced off of the rim of the basket, dancing on it for a brief moment, before the ball decided to take the outside way, successfully avoiding the net. Ha. Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 bucks.

Quickly snatching the ball away, Dean brought some distance between them, not only because he would end up without the ball if not, no, but also because... of the sight. The _sight_ was one of the things that kept his mind busy. Superman... was shirtless. All the man was wearing was a pair of sneakers and trainings-shorts. The black hair was falling untamed over the broad shoulders... still wet from the shower he'd taken after the training. Caramel-toned skin was glistening in the sun from a thin sheen of fresh sweat and bulky muscles were flexing and jumping underneath. The black art on the right shoulder seemed to come alive with every movement. Concentration was lying in the handsome features and those lips, those kissable lips were slightly parted to let needed air pass.

And then... Superman's eyes. Sharp, crystal clear and bright. Predatory.

This man was nothing more and nothing less than some unknown Greek God. Had to be. There was no other explanation for his looks.

Delicious...

And out of reach. And even if Roman wouldn't have been out of reach, you don't hit on a friend anyway, right?

Friend. He tasted the word on his tongue. Friend. _Friend._

Its taste was sweet...

And Roman charged, attempting to steal the ball but Dean rounded him, took a few steps and jumped, dunking the ball in the basket. Landing on his feet, he bit back a groan, because his body still ached from the last... incident... three days ago. He knew that if he gave even the tiniest sound of discomfort now, that Roman would immediately stop this. And actually... he didn't want that. Being here with the big man, spending some carefree time... he should have given it a try sooner.

Before Dean could leave the spot under the basket, Roman caught the ball and used the moment to come back to him with a few quick strides. He jumped and in an attempt to slap the ball out of the big hand, Dean jumped, too.

The next thing Dean knew was that he was lying flat on his back on the ground, his head aching and with a heavy weight pinning him down. A low groan passed his lips. What the fuck...? And then his name was being said hushed, worried. Once, twice. A touch at the base of his skull, his head was being lifted a little... and then he felt a soft touch on his cheek. Again his name was said. Urging. Roman's voice. And why the fuck was it so dark...? Oh, right, probably because his eyes were closed. Opening them a crack, he was met by wide grey eyes. Worried ones.

"Dean?" Roman said again. "C'mon, talk to me."

"Hnnh?" he breathed, realising that it was Roman's hand that was cushioning his pounding head against the ground and that it was Roman's thumb brushing over his cheek. And that Roman was more or less lying on him. "What...?"

"We had a tiny collision mid-air. Lost my balance and, uhm, I... fell on you...?" the other man explained, giving him a guilty smile. "You hit your head on the ground." A movement against his face. A big palm cupped his cheek. "You had me scared here, dude. You've been out for a few seconds."

Dean blinked, his still slightly foggy mind catching up with the situation and the first thing it did was underlining that Roman was close. Damn close. So fucking close that usually... Dean should have freaked now... Surprisingly enough he didn't, although his whole comfort zone was jam-packed with Mr. Goody Two Shoes. It was okay. It was... good.

And then there was heat, radiating off of the massive body. Grey orbs, still looking at him worried, yet glowing with softness and... affection? Soft touches. The scent of Roman's shower gel or maybe his shampoo... spiced with fresh sweat.

Fuck this, what the fuck was he thinking?

His heart began to pound, maybe even hard enough for the other man to feel it and he fucking couldn't stop it.

_Shit._

"Dean?" Too damn gentle... Roman's voice and it caused his heart only to pound harder. "Dean? Can you please say something?"

Say something. He could do that.

"Ugh... my fucking head is killing me," he muttered then, wanting to bring a hand up to his aching head but the way was blocked by the big frame above him.

"No wonder. We found something that is harder than your pighead, Captain Solo," Roman snorted softly.

"... 's is your fault..."

Another soft snort and a relieved grin.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, you know?"

"Better be," Dean grumbled. "Clumsy oaf..."

Quietness. The soft touch on his face never ceased though. His still half-way lifted and jobless hand settled on the other man's side on its own accord. Smooth skin. Slightly sweat slicked, hot against his palm.

"We, uhm, we should get up. People might get the wrong idea, ya know?" he joked, but his voice sounded a tad too breathless to his own ears.

"I don't give a fuck what people think," Roman replied, his eyes wandering over Dean's face scrutinizing. "You okay? Feeling dizzy?"

Automatically he wanted to shake his head no, but thankfully the big hand on the back of his head stopped him from doing something stupid like that.

"Nah, but my head pounds and you're squashing me. Otherwise I'm okay..."

_... I think..._

Something had just happened. _Something_ had just been tilted and smashed and slowly it dawned on Dean that it had been the last big wall he had been holding up against Roman. Shattered. Just like that. Only two weeks. Two goddamn, fucking weeks had been enough for this bastard of an oversized teddy bear to do that.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck... _Fuck._

This shouldn't have happened. Not now, not yet. Maybe even not at all. This shit was going too fast. Breaking his gaze way from Roman's, he brought his other hand up to the broad frame to push him off, while squirming slightly in unease.

"Get off," he muttered, pushing a bit harder and obviously the message was understood.

Get off. Seriously.

The weight on him vanished and he rolled over, the movement aggravating the pounding in his head but he didn't pay it attention. Instead he climbed to his feet without looking at his friend... his friend, there it was again... and walked over to a bench. There was no need to gaze back or say a word, he knew that Roman would follow him anyway and his ass had barely made contact with the bench as Roman sat down beside him, holding a bottle out to him.

"Drink. Can't have you dying from a heat stroke," he heard him say while there was a faint tug at the sleeve of his lumberjack shirt. "How can you even wear this stuff when it's fucking hot like this. You could at least have taken it off for..."

"No," Dean snapped, cutting him off.

There was a reason he was wearing long-sleeved shirts. Roman had seen some of the damage _he_ was leaving all too often, but he'd never seen the whole extent and to be honest, Dean wasn't ready to show it to him.

"Drink," Roman repeated, a sigh lying in the single word.

Dean obeyed then, because he knew that Roman would bug him to death if he didn't. Two hearty gulps later it was handed back to its owner.

Setting it to the ground, Roman braced his forearms on his knees and folded his hands, his eyes resting on them.

"I'm sorry."

Fucking guilt, couldn't stay away and it was clinging both to Roman's voice and Dean's guts.

"Nah, 's okay..."

_... I guess..._

"No, it's not. I made you feel uncomfortable, I..."

"No, Roman. I just... you know, I... uhm..."

And here he was stammering like a complete idiot. Wonderful.

"You really okay?"

Gazing over to the other man, Dean wondered what it was that made Roman tick. It was this always present question. The _why_. And what in Dean's case was stubbornness and sometimes his ego which both seemed too big at times to actually fit into the man himself, was in Roman's case the distinct sense of justice and a massive protection instinct. But was it just that? Was there more behind it? Why would someone like Roman waste his time on someone like him? _Really_. What was the fucking reason?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Thanks for staying," Roman said suddenly, not looking over to him but there was a smile tugging at the lush lips.

"Thought it could do no harm," Dean murmured, his eyes fixed on those lips. "Thanks for proving me wrong by bestowing me a bump of the size of the Everest, man," he added as he reached up to the bump that was forming on the back of his head, smiling a bit himself as he noticed a slight wince in Roman's features.

"Stop being such a crybaby, dude." The smile faded from Roman's lips. Then, hushed and hesitant: "Dean? You, uhm… you never tell me anything about you. Why? I mean, I know practically nothing and…"

"Next topic," Dean said quickly.

Not this. Not now. No way.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I said next topic," he gritted out, noticing a tension taking hold of him as the mood slipped into a very wrong direction.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he began to chew on his lips as the nervousness came back, but this time out of a completely different reason. There were some things which Roman shouldn't know about. Not yet. Maybe in half a year when Dean could walk away from this dump that was his life.

And here Roman had to go and ask stupid questions, now that for once Dean felt carefree at least for a little while. Idiot, ruining everything.

"Dean, c'mon, I just want to get to know you better and I'm… I'm worried, okay?"

And then Roman was looking him straight in the eyes, the air between them becoming uncomfortably thick as the mood shifted completely and dropped in a dark hole.

"Is it your dad?"

A chill ran along Dean's spine, taking residence in the back of his neck. He didn't even notice the stinging as he dug his nails into the skin of his upper arms.

"Don't."

A mere breath. And all he could bring over his lips.

"Dean…"

And the freaking that had stayed away despite the closeness earlier came with delay now, washing through him like a wave that made him move without realising it until he was already a few meters away from Roman. He was running, he knew that, running away from Roman and questions he couldn't answer and probably he was running away from this now because he couldn't run away from the truth he tried to hide from him. He didn't really want to go away from Roman. But he also couldn't stay.

A hand on his biceps. With a growl he yanked his arm free, quickening his pace until he was literally running and although Roman sure wouldn't have had a problem to catch up with him, he didn't. Instead… he called Dean's name. Begging.

… _I'm sorry…_

- tbc -

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><p>So, we've been guests in Dean's head again and I'll keep on switching between the boys' perspectives ;3<p>

**Reviews are love, guys :)))**


	4. Trust

*huge happy sigh* Once again overwhelmed by all the lovely feedback I got from you! And *moa* I just love you!

So, I hope you'll enjoy this freshly baked and served chapter as well ;3

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><p><em>His eyes jumped from face to face, none of them being the one he wanted to see. That one face he <em>needed_ to see._

_Him._

Dean.

_And he shouldn't even be in the goddamn situation to need to find him because Dean should be here now, with him, not somewhere else. But he wasn't here. Hadn't been yesterday already. _

Idiot_, Roman cursed himself silently over and over again._

_It was his own fault that Dean wasn't here now, wasn't it? If he'd just kept his big mouth shut instead of bringing topics up of which he knew Dean wasn't ready to talk about, then Dean would have been here now or at least Roman would know if the fact that Dean wasn't here with him had other reasons._

_Reasons which would be worse though…_

_Dean's reaction to his question still made him sick to the guts. The other man hadn't even answered his question but it had been answer enough, hadn't it, to see him tense up like that and… to see him run away. The expression on his face. Roman didn't even have a name for what he'd seen there. Sadness, rage, shock maybe and realization. And so many more... it all combining to something too sober, something that shouldn't be written on anyone's face. Especially not on Dean's._

_And there had been helplessness, too. It had been the one thing that had shocked Roman most. Utter helplessness. And seeing Dean run away like that had been… it had frozen Roman to the spot, because the other man wasn't the type of guy who_ ran away.

Come on, Dean, come here and tell me that I'm an ass and let me apologize, _Roman thought as he once more let his eyes sweep over the sea of heads on the school yard._

_He wished it. Really. Wished that Dean would come here and let him apologize for being an idiot and even if Dean would avoid him and he had to start anew with showing him that he could trust him, it would have been better than not knowing where the other man was, because Dean not being at school left a bad taste behind._

_If he only knew where Dean lived. Every time he'd given him a ride, it had always been the same point he'd dropped him off, yet obviously not the place where he lived. He'd watched him walk into a back road. Could mean that the place he lived at was there in that back road, could mean as well that it was God knew where. Just around the corner? A five minutes walk away? Even further away? Dean seemed to be determined to keep that information away from Roman._

_That and so many more things._

_And Roman's attempt to find out about Dean's address by asking at the school's office had been vain endeavor, too.  
><em>

_He hated it, hated_ not to be able to do something. _Anything at all. Like to say I'm sorry, give me a second chance... _

… _or like getting him out of that hell… somehow…_

Shit. Fucking shit!

_His train of thoughts was stopped by someone holding on to him, stopping him literally. For a confused second he blinked at that person until he remembered that Seth was here, too. Fawn brown eyes gazed at him with worry._

"_Roman... stop pacing like a caged tiger," Seth said quietly. The hand that had held on to Roman's arm moved up to the back of his neck, tis fingers curling around it soothingly. "He's not here."_

_Roman closed his eyes briefly and exhaled a bitter breath._

"_Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck! What if something happened to him? The last time he hasn't been at school, he came back all bruised."_

"_I know," Seth said even quieter. "I know… but you can't do anything. I know you blame yourself for asking if it's his dad and if you ask me, that's _not_ something you have to blame yourself for, because you're only worried about him. But if he really isn't at school because his dad has laid his hands on him again, then he'll need you with a clear head when he comes back." _

_Dipping his head a bit forward, Roman gritted his teeth. The mere idea of it made him sick to the guts. With a sigh Seth brought both his hands up to cradle Roman's head, stepping up to him to rest their foreheads together._

"_He's tough, Rome. He'll get through it and next week he's back at school, you can apologize and then it'll be okay," Seth calmed him. "Yeah, maybe he'll keep a bit more distance again but you haven't lost him. He likes you too much already."_

_Reaching up, Roman held onto Seth's forearms, allowing the comforting closeness to wash over him. _

_"Huh, then you know more than I do," he said just above a whisper._

_"You know it, too. Come on, do you really think he would have let you this close at all if he wouldn't like you?" Seth asked softly. _

_Roman puffed a sad little laughter, because the way Seth said this almost made him believe it._

_... little brother..._

_"I'm glad that you're here, you know?" he sighed, drawing back a little to look into those warm eyes again._

_"Yeah, don't know what you've done all the time before without me," Seth chuckled lightly, softly patting Roman's chest. "You have it real bad for him, don't you?"_

_"I'm just worried, Seth, and I have reason enough to be worried."_

_"I know. That and you have it real bad for him."_

_With a heavy sigh on his lips, Roman wiped a hand over his forehead and let his eyes once more roam the school yard that had emptied out except for a handful of students. And still, no Dean._

_"Yeah, and I'm realistic enough to know that the chances that he'll requite it are close to null," he muttered, looking back at Seth with a crooked smile. "I'd be happy enough if he would trust me and let me be his friend."_

_A light frown appeared on Seth's face, a pondering one, while he chewed on the inside of the corner of his mouth._

_Tilting his head a little to the side, he asked: "How does it feel to kiss a man?"_

_"Stubbly," Roman snorted, wondering where that question just had come from._

_The frown on Seth's face deepened a bit._

_"Stubbly?"_

_"Beard growth, li'l bro. You should know what that is since you're the president of the society of thick beards," Roman explained, giving the nicely trimmed but impressively full beard that framed the pretty face a playful tug._

_"Oh, haha, funny. But really, doesn't it feel weird to...?"_

_Seth never got to end the sentence, because Roman put a hand on the back of his head and leaned in, sealing his lips over Seth's. The sound of utter surprise that escaped the smaller man's mouth was swallowed down and replaced by Roman's tongue that teasingly slid along Seth's. __The kiss lasted only a brief moment, not even long enough to give Seth the time to actually really react to it and when it ended, Roman crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his friend with an in question raised eyebrow while biting back a huge grin at the bewildered expression he found on the other man's face._

_"Stubbly..." Seth stated slowly, the brown eyes wide in confused surprise. He blinked once. And reached up to touch his lips. Then: "You've kissed me."_

_"No shit, Sherlock. Don't worry, you won't wake up gay tomorrow," Roman grinned, licking his lips. Sweet. Seth's lips tasted sweet. "Are you using lip balsam?"_

_"What...? I, uh... cherry, yeah," Seth stuttered, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. _

_Ruffling the already messy locks, Roman laughed: "Good God, you're cute, Rollins."_

_His hand was slapped away, followed by a punch against his shoulder._

_"Asshole!" Seth exclaimed but there was a grin forming on his lips, too. "Is that your hobby? Kissing other men just like that?"_

_Throwing an arm around Seth's neck, Roman pulled him tightly against his side._

_"Only pretty, fawn eyed boys like you," he replied as he began to walk towards his car._

_He heard Seth mutter something under his breath, felt him struggle half-heartedly against the hold on him for a moment, before the resistance subsided. This small interlude had managed to drag his attention away from searching for Dean and worrying non-stop for a while, but this very second his thoughts neatly latched on to Dean again. He couldn't even text him, because the man didn't have a phone or e-mail. _

_"You're lucky that your parents are cool with you being gay, dude. "_

_"Yeah. Dad always says that there's still a chance then that there'll be a young man in his house some day who might be interested in cars, since his own son is not," Roman said absentmindedly._

_"Thought you'll continue your old man's business?"_

_"Being the boss of a car repair shop doesn't necessarily mean that one has to be interested in restoring cars. You only need the right employees. And it's just not my thing to restore cars." And that brought his thoughts to another point he had almost forgotten. There was a mission his old man had given him to accomplish. "Fuck, the fuel pump..." he groaned. _

_"Fuel pump?"_

_"Yeah, gotta get a fuel pump from the junkyard for the '76er Chevy Camaro my dad is restoring."_

_"Why from the junkyard? Why doesn't he buy a new one?"_

_"He could but he wants only original parts from other Camaro's. Don't ask me why. Uh, shall I give you a ride?"_

_Shaking his head no, Seth patted the arm that was resting around his shoulder._

_"Nah, having Ninjutsu in about half an hour, so I think I'll do a nice walk to the dojo, bro."_

_When they reached the car, Seth gazed at him for long seconds before saying quietly: "Do me the favor and give yourself a break. You're driving yourself crazy over worrying about him and you're not helping him with it. And I don't like seeing you so sad. Okay?"_

_There was warmth blooming in Roman's chest as he looked into those fawn brown orbs that glowed with affection and, yes, worry that he didn't like to see there. But it felt damn good to know that Seth cared so much about him and maybe it was good that his heart was already beating for Dean, because if not... then he might have fallen for Seth. But you're not hitting on your little brother, right? Not even if it's your brother from another mother._

_"Okay, big bro?" _

_More insistently this time._

_"Yeah, okay. Trying my best, sir," he said, smoothing a hand over the two-toned hair._

_He would try to. But he also knew that he would be failing miserably..._

And he was proved correct because from the moment they had parted to the very moment now as he was walking into the small office of the junkyard, his mind had been spinning, his thoughts revolving around Dean. Non. Stop. It was almost ridiculous. Breathing deeply, he shook his head softly about his own incapability to keep cool about the whole thing. He knew that Seth was right by saying that he wasn't helping Dean a bit with it and usually he wasn't the type who wasn't able to get a grip on a bad situation... or himself. This was a first for him and he had no fucking idea what to do.

"Mister Reigns junior," the man behind the desk greeted him, a wide smile on the friendly and round face. Barney was his name, as far as Roman remembered. The owner of this junkyard. "It's been a while."

"Yes, sir," Roman smiled back, shaking the hand which was held out to him. "Dad sends me to get the Chevy fuel pump."

Shaking his head, the man laughed.

"A neverending story, that Camaro and your dad. When did he start to restore that car? Ten years ago?"

Pursing his lip, Roman raised an eyebrow and snorted: "Twelve actually. I honestly think that he doesn't really want to get it finished. That car is his baby and he loves to just sit in it and dream about how it'll be to drive it."

"Aah, I see. The journey is the way," Barney drawled, still smiling and Roman nodded. "Okay then, let me get the little gem. I'll be right back."

With that Barney vanished through the back door. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Roman walked over to a window, gazing out. His mind drifted back in time, back to when he'd been been much younger and had spent time here on regular basis with his dad. His eyes roamed the corpses of all those cars out there... and over things he couldn't even identify. People were running around out there, busy with whatever, carrying things and he watched them, his gaze stopping at a man who was trying to haul an obvious heavy and unwieldy metal-whatever up and into a container, without much success though. It seemed that the thing the man was fighting with was about to win. Crossing his arms over his chest, Roman kept watching the struggle while his mind was caught between dwelling in memories and going back to spinning because of Dean.

It took him a moment until the information his eyes gave him actually sank into his busy brain. But then... he understood. He knew that black and white lumberjack shirt. And he also knew the messy blond hair. But...

_What the fuck...?_

He heard his name being called the moment he practically ran out of the small building but he ignored it, because he needed to get to him as fast as possible. His heart began to pound hard, harder, ridiculously fast, too, while there was only one thought left in his head.

This was _Dean_.

Dean, who just took a step backwards or rather stumbled back, the thing he was trying to lift now dropping to the ground with a audible thud. Roman watched as Dean took a few unsteady steps forward again and sat down in front of the container with his back against it and his head dipped forward, an arm holding is middle, a hand resting in his lap...

There was a slight flinch as Roman kneeled down beside him and gingerly laid a hand on a slumped shoulder, but he got no reaction otherwise. Dean's breathing was heavy and unsteady, strained.

"Dean?" he said softly, moving his hand up to the back of the other man's neck, letting it rest there. "Dean, look at me."

For another long second or two Dean remained unmoving. But then, slowly, he lifted his head and met Roman's gaze, the blue eyes somewhat dull but widening a bit as he recognized who was kneeling there.

"Roman?"

Too breathless for Roman's taste. But worse was... what he saw on Dean's face. A dark shiner was forming around his left eye and a big bruise on his left cheekbone, his jaw. There was a cut in his eyebrow and his lower lip.

"Shit..." he whispered, carefully laying a hand on the bruised cheek.

Rage sparked in him, demanding to go and make sure the bastard would never, _never_ _again_ lay his hands on Dean, but instead he gritted his teeth and fought it down. Dean needed him. Here. From the corner of his eye he noticed Barney kneeling down beside him, reaching out to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder and the way Dean tensed up didn't go unnoticed by Roman and he quickly stopped the other man from touching Dean.

"I told him to go home," Barney said, a certain guilty note lying in his voice. "He refused to go..."

It almost seemed as if Barney's words pushed a button in Dean who suddenly moved to get up, but Roman stopped his attempt immediately.

"I'm okay," Dean gritted out. "Lemme, got work to..."

"No, dude, you're not doing anything anymore today," Roman cut him off while inching closer. Putting one of Dean's arms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around his upper body and straightened up, pulling Dean with him and every single stifled groan tore sharply at his heart.

Eventually they were standing. It was written all over the battered face that Dean didn't want this, hated it and with a muttered _no_ he started a feeble attempt to move away from Roman. Bringing a hand up to the arm around his neck, Roman closed his fingers around the wrist to keep the arm there while holding him a bit tighter against his side with his other arm.

"Don't even think about it, you hear me? You can barely stand on your own, man," he said more insistently as he began to steer him towards his car carefully despite the weak struggling Dean put up.

The resistance faded from the other man the closer they came to the car, probably because there was simply no strength left in him, and the moment they reached it Dean had given up and followed Roman's lead.

Opening the door to the backseats area, he maneuvered Dean in there somehow, this time without any kind of opposition... but also without any other reaction. No words, not even a gaze. Nothing.

Hunching down beside him, he brushed a hand over the blond hair while murmuring: "You stay put, okay? I'll be back in a minute."

Still... nothing. With a sigh he got up and closed the door carefully, before he made his way back to Barney who, obviously unsure what to do, was standing in front of the office, gazing over to them. And Roman was not only unsure what to do, he was at a loss here. Dean was sitting in his car, battered and bruised, beaten up by this bastard who called himself his father and... fuck he looked as if he'd almost been beaten to death and... and...

Closing his eyes, he stopped in his tracks as the facts hit him once more, as it _really_ sunk in and the impact of it flooded him with a heavy sickness.

He needed to take Dean to a doctor... couldn't let him go back home... he...

A hand settled on his shoulder and his name was being said hushed. Barney. The man was standing there beside him, looking at him in question as Roman met his gaze. Worry was there, too. Guilt. And when had the man come here?

"Why is Dean here?" he asked the older man because he really didn't understand it.

Dean hadn't been at school but now he was here, working, when it was the goddamn last thing he should do in his condition?

"He's working here three days a week to earn some money for a car. At least that's what his father has told me when he came here to get the temp job for him," Barney said, but the way he said it, hesitatingly, told Roman that he didn't really believe it himself. "His father comes every Saturday afternoon to get the money for him."

"Huh, yeah..." he ground out. "Why haven't you called the fucking _police_ or the youth welfare? Don't tell me you haven't seen the bruises and don't you _fucking_ tell me it's the first time he comes here like this!"

"Calm down, junior, I understand that you're worried about your friend, but what do you think that I should tell the cops, huh? That I think that his father is abusing him? They'll probably say that he's just some punk kid who likes to get involved in brawls and if they really go and talk to his father, then it'll get only worse for him," the older man explained, his voice hushed but gentle.

"How much is the difference if he doesn't go back to work now?" Roman asked, forcing himself to calm down. He knew that the man had a point there. "I'm gonna give you the money and you'll give it to his father, okay? I don't want him to get in trouble for..."

"Don't be silly, junior. I'll pay him the full hours," Barney sighed. "Take the fuel pump for your dad and go back to your friend and make sure he'll get back on his feet."

With that Barney handed him the fuel pump he had held tucked under his arm and squeezed his shoulder. An apologetic expression spread all over the round face and to be honest, Roman couldn't blame the man for doing how he'd done. With a nod Roman turned away from him, walking back to his car... still at a loss what to do. Placing the fuel pump in the trunk, he grabbed a bottle of water from his sportsbag and a spare shirt and took a deep breath, before joining Dean on the backseat.

Dean was sitting leaned against the car door, his head resting against the shaded window. One arm was wrapped around his middle again. He didn't look over to Roman, stared out of the window instead. His shirts were dirty and damp, sticking to his body. With a sigh Roman placed the bottle in the footwell and the spare shirt on the top of the backrest.

"Dean?" No reaction. "We need to get you out of those shirts."

The dulled blue eyes kept staring out of the window as Dean sat up a little straighter and leaned forward a bit, his movements slow, it all wearing the bitter note of resignation. With a silent sigh Roman began to peel him out of the damp lumberjack shirt, catching himself looking anywhere but at the skin that was revealed, maybe because he was scared of what he would see there. But he knew already anyway what his eyes would show him and caused sickness to coil up in his guts again.

And then the shirt was off and hesitatingly Roman let his eyes roam over Dean's arms and shoulders. For endlessly long seconds he couldn't _breathe_. Abrasions... bruises, black and blue... too many of them. One of them on Dean's upper arm, like fingerprints. One leading from his right shoulder down across his back, vanishing under the black tank he was wearing.

It _hurt_. So fucking much and he wanted to gather him in his arms and make both their pain go away and shield Dean from harm...

Eventually he managed to draw in some air again, nadly needed deep breaths against the sickness and the rage that flared blindingly bright in him now. Dean still didn't meet his gaze, almost as if he was afraid to look at him for some reason.

But there was the shadow of a smile dancing on ruined lips, bitter and twisted, as Dean said just above a whisper: "Sure you want to see it?"

No, I don't want to see it. I fucking don't want to see this shit that shouldn't even be there on your body. He didn't say it though.

Instead he swallowed the fear and those words down and reached out, his fingers closing on the hem of the tank, gently tugging it up. He heard a low groan as Dean lifted his arms so Roman could pull it off and although he had known that it would be bad, the sight that was revealed hit him full force. There was barely a patch of unscathed skin left. New bruises were forming over the shadows of older ones, abrasions, scars... The bruise that started on the shoulder lead down in a dark streak, ending in the kidney area. And there was a big, black bruise on his ribcage, too.

Closing his eyes tightly for a moment, he whispered: "Oh God, Dean..."

"Yeah... things like that happen outside your ideal world where everything is _so_ idyllic, Reigns," he heard Dean say, heard that it was supposed to sound biting and probably even tough, but it was far from being that.

It was exhausted and resigned. And Roman felt helpless, like never before in his life because he couldn't wash the colors off of Dean's body to make the bruises vanish and he couldn't smooth a hand over the abrasions and cuts and scars to wipe them away. He couldn't make the pain go away, no matter how much he wanted it.

"Dean..."

"What?"

Snapped, this time with a bit more intensity lying in it but even now, it wasn't... serious. More like some kind of an automatic reaction you actually don't want but it happens nevertheless.

"Look at me," Roman demanded softly, determined to somehow cross that last bit of _distance_ Dean still tried to keep up between them. His reward was a single, mirthless laughter, but then Dean finally met his gaze. "Don't do this. Don't push me away. I'm your friend and I want to help you." A shadow cast over the other man's eyes, his brows furrowing and his lips tightening. Dean was fighting with himself. Again. _Still_. And Roman silently begged him to finally allow himself to _trust_. "Let me help you, Dean. Please," he added even softer.

Something shifted in those blue orbs before Dean looked away again, his gaze finding his own hands which were resting in his lap, clenching to fists while his breathing quickened a little.

Then, so quietly that Roman almost missed it: "Ro?"

The tiny word pierced right through his chest, taking residence in his heart and took possession of it and the sweet ache it brought along dimmed the bitter one for a moment. Never before had Dean called him that, not even Rome, like Seth used to do.

"Yeah?" Roman spoke hushed, his heart stumbling a bit as he understood that Dean calling him that... that it was that last step... like an outstretched hand...

"I'm so damn tired..." Dean whispered and the facade he had been holding up all the time... Roman could see it fall to pieces this very moment.

And for the first time he really laid eyes on the Dean who had been hidden behind all the walls. The lonely, _burned_ boy who wanted nothing more than the pain to go away. A shocking vulnerability was showing on the face and he could see that Dean was not only tired but also _tired_. Tired off all of it and too close to the breaking point.

But Dean wouldn't break... because he was there to keep him together. Even if it was the last thing he would do in his life.

Scooting back to the other end of the seat, Roman shifted to sit with his back against the door.

"Come here," Roman said quietly, patting the space right in front of him and Dean's eyes found to the spot where the big hand was still resting and back up to Roman's. Holding his other hand out in invitation, Roman murmured: "Trust me."

There was still hesitation lying in the handsome features, probably because being so close to someone, even if it was Roman, was making him feel uncomfortable and for a moment Roman was almost sure that he wouldn't do it... but then Dean moved, slowly inching over to him to sit between the thick thighs with his legs stretched out on the bench and with a low groan he leaned back against the broad chest, sagging against Roman. Gingerly Roman brought his arms around the leaner frame, holding the exhausted body tightly yet gently against his chest. He heard a heavy breath being exhaled, felt Dean rest his head against his shoulder and a temple against his cheek. Hands on his arms, holding on to them weakly.

"I'm sorry..." Dean mumbled.

"I know, Dean," Roman replied hushed, his eyes fixing on the opposite window, gazing out of it yet not, because it was mirroring a faint reflection of them and his gaze wandered over it.

"Sorry..."

"Don't worry, 's okay," he murmured soothingly. "Try to rest a little, okay?"

_I'm here, you're safe. No one is gonna lay a goddamn, fucking hand on you._

Quietness followed. Swallowing hard, Roman tightened his hold on him ever so slightly and fought the pain in his chest down, wishing that this was just a fucking nightmare they both would wake up from any second. Waves of slight trembling were running through Dean's frame and it didn't even take a minute until his breathing evened out, got shallow. And then the body in Roman's arms went slack.

This... it was trust, wasn't it? To sleep before someone's face, letting them hold you meant that you trusted them not to do something that could harm you, right?

Dean was trusting him.

But this victory... it was covered with an all too bitter note...

X

Two hours. For two hours now he was sitting here with Dean in his arms, watching over his sleep. Every now and then there was a breathed whimper and there were moments when his breathing was quickening a little, got strained. Moments when the body in his arm tensed up or flinched. And all Roman could do then was to hold him a bit tighter and murmur soothing words Dean would never know about. Still his sleep had more of an unconsciousness than anything else. Dean didn't stir as Roman shifted because his legs got numb from sitting too long without moving and as the door of the co-drivers side opened and Barney stuck his head in to ask if they needed anything, Dean gave no further reaction but a mumble.

It was a low groan and the soft movement of Dean's head that was tucked under his chin which told him that Dean was coming round eventually. His breathing got stronger again, hitched a bit as he twitched slightly and briefly it felt as if Dean wanted to jerk away from the contact… but then his name was breathed, followed by another low groan.

"Welcome back, Han Solo," he murmured, loosening his hold just in case Dean wanted to move away from him… but surprisingly enough he didn't make an attempt to get out of the embrace.

Roman couldn't help the warmth that was blooming in his chest at that fact because only two days ago they had made five steps backwards due to his own idiocy and now, with one big stride, they had gained more than only the lost ground.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked softly, fishing in the footwell for the bottle of water.

"Yeah... I think..." Dean answered, sounding still much too tired to Roman's ears, yet better than two hours ago.

After a brief moment his fingers closed around it and he brought it up, opened it and held it in front of Dean's nose.

"You need to drink some water," he said, taking one of Dean's hands to place it on the bottle as the other man made no move to take it. "Not gonna discuss about this, Dean. Drink."

It earned him a sigh but then Dean took some hearty gulps, before handing it back to Roman who placed it back in the footwell.

"How long have I been out?" he heard him ask, the already rough voice way more raspy than usually.

"About two hours," Roman replied, unsure where to put his hands.

Having his arms wrapped around Dean while he'd been asleep had been one thing, but now that Dean was awake again, Roman wasn't sure if putting his arms back around him now was still okay. He wanted to. Because despite the circumstances, holding Dean had felt good.

"Fuck," Dean groaned as he moved to sit up, bringing the nasty bruises on his back on full display and Roman couldn't help but lay a hand on the huge dark streak that led across the other man's back.

Dean stiffened immediately.

"Have to go back to work," he forced out, yet he didn't move away from the touch.

"No more working for you today. Don't worry, your dad won't know about it. Barney's gonna pay you the full hours." He let his hand travel along the streak and then over to the huge bruise on Dean's ribcage. "How badly does it hurt?"

And Dean stiffened even more. If it was due to the hand on his side or because of the question, Roman didn't know, but he wished that his touch could make it better... instead of making Dean feel uncomfortable.

Take your hand off, the rational part in him warned. I can't, that emotional part in him whispered.

"Can't take money for not doing my job."

"In this case you'll have to, because I'm gonna make sure that you won't strain yourself any more than you already have today. Give yourself a break," he urged softly.

"You _gonna make sure_?" Dean said then, his voice tense. "You don't have the fucking right to decide for me..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Roman began, trailing off mid-sentence. And then he sighed. One step forward, two backwards. "Why don't you let me help you?"

"You... you can't help me, Ro." There it was again. Ro. A step forwards. "There's nothing you can do, you know? It's okay, I... huh, I survived the last six years and I'll get through the next six month, too."

"I know that you're tough, Dean. There's no need to prove it to me and there's nothing bad about not being tough every now and then. I am here and you can trust me. What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not used to having someone I can trust." It was a mere whisper, yet it seemed loud in the bit of space between them. There was a very light, scratching sound. Nails on rough fabric. Dean was scraping his nails over his jeans nervously. "I'm scared that if I give in, that I won't get back on my feet if the day comes that you'll be sick of how twisted I am."

A vice-grip closed around Roman's chest. No one should say something like that about themselves.

"Don't say that. You're not twisted."

"Huh, sure..."

Splaying his fingers over the bruise on Dean's side, Roman said: "You are _not_. And I'm not gonna let you down." He willed Dean to believe it. He wanted him to finally accept that he wasn't alone with this shit anymore. "Talk to me, Dean."

But Dean only dipped his head a bit forward and Roman could see how his fingers dug in the worn fabric of his blue jeans.

"Can't..."

"Okay," Roman whispered. "It's okay... " Pushing Dean had almost destroyed everything and he wouldn't risk that again. He pulled his hand back and with it the tension left the body in front of him. "You have all the time you need. I just want you to know that I'm there for you."

The snort Dean graced him with surprised him. As did the tiny smile he found on his lips as he turned around to him.

"Sounds fucking corny, man," Dean chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but it wasn't much amusement lying in his voice.

He was trying to change the topic and get away from the uncomfortable grounds they were walking on. No wonder, was it? This today, it was almost more than Roman was able to stomach and he knew that it would hunt him for days, and he couldn't even imagine how Dean must be feeling now.

"Guess the heat makes my brain mushy," Roman smiled, watching as Dean reached for his shirts. Grabbing the spare shirt from the backrest, he threw it over to him. "Your shirts are damp and dirty. Put this one on."

With an appreciating grunt Dean threw the shirt on, or rather wanted to, but his movements were still slow and accompanied with stifled hisses and gasps. The narrow room of the backseat area didn't make it any better and so Roman moved before he knew what he was doing, reaching out to help him tug the fabric in place. The shirt slipped over the blond mop and suddenly...

Blue... light and crystalline. Insecure. Yet soft and so beautiful...

And his heart, it tripped and reached out for Dean.

"Thanks," Dean murmured and his breath fanned over Roman's face... making him realize how close they were.

_Shit..._

Scooting back, he gave Dean more room. It was like walking on a line. Give him room, but not too much or else he'll be out of your orbit. And then... wasn't it odd how someone like him, who at the first sight seemed to be so blunt, dulled in his nature, could be so... sensitive? Delicate even? If you only took the time to really, _really_ look at him...

It made his trust... special. Precious.

Roman wanted it, this trust, the pure and unconditionally version of it and he knew it was still a long and stony path until he would get there. He would walk this way, no matter how often he would stumble.

And he wanted to spend more time with him, preferably in a place where Dean could be carefree. A safe place where the world was okay.

"Ro?"

Okay, so maybe he had been staring at Dean a bit too long here, but good God, how he loved to hear him call him that...

"Uhm, I just thought that... maybe you wanna come over to my place tomorrow?"

A faint frown appeared on the other man's face.

"Dunno..."

Mumbled. Unsure.

"Come on, Captain Solo. Some chilling, some X-Box and my mom's a great cook."

_Say yes... please..._

The expression on Dean's face wasn't only a pondering one, no, it also showed very much visible the back and forth that was going on in his head and his eyes became somewhat distant, almost as if he was getting lost in his own wary world.

"Uhm... yeah, okay," Dean said then, quietly... shy almost.

_Yes!_

It was admittedly a bit silly how exited and giddy he felt that Dean had just agreed to come over to his place for a few hours, but soon there would be pleasantly much Dean in his life and he would do anything he could to make those few hours would be good for him. Quiet, carefree. Happy.

And fuck yes, he was being corny here.

"Great! Gonna pick you up in the afternoon. Around four? Same corner as always?" Roman asked and he didn't even try to hide the broad smile that grew on his lips.

A nod. And a tiny smile. That smile, although being barely there, made the blue orbs sparkle.

"Okay then, how about we go and grab something to eat now?" he suggested, but he could already see the _no_ coming before Dean said it.

"No, gotta go home..."

Roman wanted to let the protest that was lying on his tongue pass his lips, but he knew it was better to keep it unspoken, so what left his mouth was: "Okay. Lemme give you a ride though."

X

_Ro? I, uh... I'm not good at this stuff, you know? But I'm trying and I, uhm... just... thank you..._

Dean's words still echoed in his ears while he sat here, on the stairs to the porch to the house. Words he held close to his heart. Laughter soaked the sun spiced air, accompanied with the sound of skateboard and go-cart wheels on concrete and the rhythmically thud of a ball. A dog was barking somewhere. The sky was blue, dotted with little white clouds and the lawn Roman had his eyes fixed on was neatly trimmed and of a bright green. Beside him sat a glass of his mom's self-made lemonade with those ridiculous clover-shaped ice-cubes. The sounds of his mother being busy with preparing dinner came from inside the house.

Fact was, he had taken all this for granted, his sheltered childhood, his open-minded parents who supported him in everything he was doing. He had taken for granted that he had his own room, that there was food when he was hungry. His parents were saving money for him, he had his own car. He got everything he needed and if he wanted, he could join his father's business when he was done with school. His future was safe and the worst thing that could happen to him was to come home after school, his mother waiting for him because she wanted him to help in the household.

This was his own little sheltered, ideal world. And it was idyllic.

Dean had been right.

With a muttered _fuck_, he braced his elbows on his knees, cradled his head in his hands and screwed his eyes shut. There was a suspicous stinging in his eyes and an ache in his chest. There was this pain that based on bad feelings because Dean... huh, because of what Dean had to go through every fucking single day... and then there was this sweet, oh so sweet ache caused by the feelings he harbored for him. Seth was right, this was far, far more than only a crush. Maybe it had started out as a crush but somewhere along this ridiculously short time he had fallen head over heels for him.

But whether they would only be friends from now on or if there was a chance for more, he had to do something, as soon as possible. He needed to get Dean out of this shit. Somehow. _Somehow_...

A sudden touch on his shoulder made him jump, his head snapping to the side... to find his mother sitting there. Her eyes wandered over his face while the hand on his shoulder reached up to brush over his hair.

"Hey, baby," she said, tilting her head a bit to the side. "What's bothering you?"

Looking at her in silence, he pondered if he should tell her about it. He would have to tell his parents not to... stare... at Dean anyway when he would come over tomorrow, because even if Dean would cover the damage on his body with a long-sleeved shirt, his face was... well, the evidence of his fathers... affection... was highly visible.

"Uhm, when Dean comes over tomorrow..." he began slowly, feeling like a traitor somehow, but he could not _not_ say a word.

Dean had agreed to come here, so he knew that either he would have to cope with inquiring stares or even comments or that Roman would tell his parents... something.

"What is it?" she asked, tucking a strand behind his ear.

"You and dad... just... don't stare at him, okay? And don't mention anything," he murmured, his eyes dropping back to the lawn.

He didn't need to look at her to feel the question in her gaze.

"Why should we?"

"Because the left side of his face is one huge bruise," he said very, very quietly, clenching his hands to fists at a bright spark of lingering rage.

Silence for a moment.

Then: "What happened?"

"Can't tell you, mom," he replied. "All I can say is that it's not his fault. Look, he just started to trust me and if you..."

"Don't worry," she calmed him. "I'm gonna talk to your dad and everything will be fine." _Huh, yeah,_ everything will be fine, he thought bitterly. _If you only knew..._ "I trust you to choose the right friends but if you need help, then talk to me, okay? We'll find a way to solve the problem."

Nodding slightly, he mumbled: "Okay, mom."

A hand settled on his forearm, a thumb began to brush back and forth tenderly. Her touch was warm and soft, always had been. Soothing. The touch only a mother could give and it made him wonder when the last time had been that Dean had felt a touch like this... and it also made him realize that he didn't even know if Dean had a mom or if there was only his father...

"Mom?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

Leaning in, she placed a kiss on his temple.

"I love you, too." With that she got up and patted his shoulder. "And now, young man, come in and set the table or else you won't get a dessert later."

The threat was not only half-heartedly but also heavly coated with a smile that laced into her voice. Grabbing his lemonade, he stood up to follow her into the house, vowing silently that he would never again complain about something silly as putting some plates on a table...

- tbc -

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><p><strong>Got some words for me?<strong>


	5. The Last Door

Holy shit, yesssss! All those reviews! You guys rock XD

Soooo happy that you enjoy my li'l story here!

Thanks for coming back!

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><p>His gaze was fixed on the plate in front of his nose while he was sitting there, fork and knife in hands and a glass of self-made lemonade right there beside his plate. On his plate was a half eaten piece of roast beef and some broccoli and potatoes.<p>

_He reached the stairs to the porch ot the big, white painted house and... stopped. Actually his _feet_ stopped on their own accord. His gaze roamed, wandering over the neatly trimmed, green lawn in front of the house, over the tidy porch to the bright white facade and back down to the front door, where Roman was waiting for him with in question raised eyebrows. _

_"Dean? You coming?"_

_A good question. _

_"I, uhm..."_

_... am not sure. It wasn't a big deal, was it? Going into that house? Meet Roman's parents? Spend some time with Roman and being part of a happy family dinner?_

"Do you want some more roast beef, Dean?" a light voice asked, pulling him out of his thoughts for a second.

"Uhm, yeah," he replied, gazing up to Roman's mother.

He was met by a warm smile. Another piece of roast beef was placed on his plate. A hand squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Thanks, ma'am," Dean smiled back.

Or rather he brought something that came close to a smile to his lips. Smiling jarred the cuts in his lips and he was still... a bit overwhelmed from all the _family_ that happened here. He just wasn't used to it and it confused him a bit, also left him a little insecure. It was far from being familiar. It all.

His eyes jumped over to Roman, who gazed right back at him with some kind of an _everything is okay_ expression. And maybe there was also a tad _you're doing good_ lying in it. A faint but soft smile was there on those lush lips.

_"What's wrong?" Roman asked, walking back over to him._

_The grey eyes roamed his face in what had become a familiar scrutiny._

_"What if your parents, ya know, don't want me here?"_

_Slight confusion showed up on the other man's face as he took the few steps down to where Dean was standing glued to the spot._

_"W__hy shouldn't they?"_

_With a barely audible sigh he looked down at himself or rather at his arms which were covered with a longsleeve... but the bruises on his face were visible. The only way to cover those would have been to put a paper bag over his head with two holes to peek through, but that would have looked pretty silly actually..._

_"They are not blind, Roman, are they?"_

_"Actually, not, they're not." A hand settled on the back of his neck and wasn't it funny that after shying away from any kind of touches for so long now, that he had become used to Roman's tactile nature in such a short time? "Everything is okay, Dean. Stop worrying. I know they'll love you."_

_There was a sharp sting in his guts at that last sentence and whether Roman had noticed that his choice of words hadn't been the best or if he simply read it on Dean's face... however, he mumbled a _sorry_._

_"Don't worry, Ro," he murmured, looking back up to his friend. "But they'll see the bruises and..."_

_"And it is okay, Dean. It is, believe me. Look, my parents aren't home yet and we're gonna go in there now, chill a little and later I'll introduce you to them. They won't judge you, okay? They trust me to choose the right friends."_

_The hand vanished and was replaced by a broad arm that circled his neck to pull him along, but Dean didn't move an inch. It is okay, Roman had said. They would see the bruises and it would be okay. How could he be so sure if he hadn't..._

_"What did you tell them?" he wanted to know, his voice low and he couldn't help the way his guts knotted._

_"Nothing except that it isn't your fault."_

_It was a good answer. It really was, being safe and all, not telling the facts and still it was making sure Roman's parents wouldn't think of him as a brawl digging punk kid. And at the same time this answer left option for so many different scenarios of why his face looked like a fucking paint-box, that Dean didn't even want to imagine the movies which would probably be playing in Mommy and Daddy Reigns' minds._

_"Stop it," Roman muttered, softly tapping Dean's forehead. "You're thinking to much, Captain Solo."_

_Reassurance... there, written in those handsome features. A gentle pulling as Roman began to walk, his arm still wrapped around Dean's neck who finally found himself able to move his feet again..._

Chewing busily, he let his eyes trail through the room. A big dining room, painted in a decent white and light grey and with furniture made of reddish wood. A few pictures were on the walls, some of them showing Roman and his parents, some of them showing other family members. It had been one of the first things Dean had noticed after stepping into the house and coming across a family picture. Roman's heritage. He'd been wondering about it anyway.

Half Samoan and half Italian.

Nice.

But Dean was sure that there must be some Greek god in there, too. There had to. No one looked like Roman did without having some Greek god in his genes. Or some Superman genes. The question if his biological parents happened to be Kryptonians lay on his tongue, but he didn't let it out.

From the corner of his eye he noticed his glass being refilled with lemonade, while a hand was laid on his back, again a gentle touch and once more he was greeted by a warm smile by Mommy Reigns.

"Thanks, ma'am."

"You hear that, Roman? This young man says thank you," she adressed her son with a chidingly raised brow, but there was still that smile on her lips. "Maybe I should keep him, then I'd hear that more often in this house."

Sting. A sharp one, deep in his chest. For a brief moment Dean wasn't sure if he could keep sitting here as he felt an odd urge coil up in his guts, one that told him to hide somewhere for a few minutes. It was silly, he knew that. Shouldn't it make him feel good to hear something like that?

But maybe that was exactly the problem. Hear something he couldn't have.

Dean's gaze dropped to his plate while he fought that urge down. He couldn't run off now. Mommy Reigns softly rubbed his back before walking away and he reached out for the lemonade, freezing briefly as he felt a foot hook behind his own. Roman's foot. Taking a sip from his glass, he spyed over its rim over to his friend who looked at him with that reassuring expression again.

_Everything is okay._

_I'm here._

Goddamn sap. What made Roman think at all that an _I'm here_ made things better for Dean? Oh, yeah, maybe the fact that there had been moments where Roman being there _had_ made things better...

... much actually...

Who was the sap here...?

Dean smiled. A soft little smile. This one jarred the cuts in his lips but he didn't really notice it, because his attention was drawn to the smile that mirrored on Roman's lips, even softer than the one on his own ones, and it dimmed the pain.

It was... absurd... but Roman was really dimming his pain...

_"The fuck, Ambrose!"_

_"Wutt? I just saved your ass," Dean drawled, side-glancing the other man._

_"Yeah, fuck, how can you be this good? You said you've never played this shit before!" Roman complained for no actual reason, because they were being a team here. _

_It was probably because Dean had more hits than Roman had. And that for someone who had never played Call Of Duty before. Or Xbox at all._

_"Haven't," Dean snorted, giving him an amused eyebrow. "Maybe you're just that bad?"_

_The expression on Roman's face was a stunned one with a note of being mock-offended by Dean's brazenness to be this good and cheeky._

_"Little fucker," he heard Roman mutter under his breath, but fondness was clinging to it._

_For a moment they just gazed at each other in silence, with Dean wondering what was going on behind those grey orbs and maybe Roman was thinking the exact same thing, wondering what Dean was thinking, feeling. The gaze Roman gave him was searching, looking out for a hint and Dean couldn't even blame him, since he wasn't quite being an open book to him. Roman had barely read the first two pages of him and he knew that turning the pages over wasn't easy._

_It was a sound coming from the TV that caused Roman to look away. The game hadn't been paused while they had been just looking at each other and it now ended up with them both being dead. Game over._

_"Break?" Roman asked, putting both gamepads aside at Dean's nod, before turning around to him._

_They were sitting on Roman's bed, Roman sitting cross-legged while Dean was more or less sprawling, easily occupying most of the space. He could not _not_ do it, the bed was too damn comfy and since Roman seemed to be okay with it, he made no move to put his body in another position. _

_After Roman had given him a sight-seeing around the house, they had ended up here with refreshingly cool lemonade and cookies, which, except for maybe three of them, had found a home in Dean's stomach. _

_Self-made lemonade and cookies. Triple choc. A tiny bit of heaven._

_There had been a half-hearted complaint being muttered by the other man as the cookies had been claimed by Dean, comparing him to a swarm of grasshoppers that left only crumbs behind after descending on the bowl the cookies had been in, yet there hadn't been any attempts to get them back._

_For a bit more than half an hour they had been playing Call Of Duty, not really talking about serious stuff but nonsense. Safe topics. And although Roman had done a good job in not letting show up on his face that he wanted to ask _things_, Dean had caught a glimpse or two which told him that the other man had a hard time to hold back. Instead of being in the uncomfortable situation to having to give answers he wasn't sure he had, Dean found himself being... freed. No questions, no answers, no... fear. Here, in this room, he could laugh... and fuck, it felt good to laugh again... he could lie here on this bed, stuffed with cookies. He could simply _be_. And he could close his eyes for a moment, knowing that the worst thing that could happen to him was that Roman stole a cookie that belonged to him anyway. _

_This place was... it was... safe... And Roman's presence was ease._

_Roman... who did all those things... and who stoicly kept walking towards Dean's very core, no matter which stumbling block was thrown in his path and there were moments in which Dean wasn't sure if it should make him feel good or scare him._

_He'd pushed Roman away, had tried to without much success, hadn't he, but the thing was that if he pushed him away now, that he would inevitably been dragged along because somehow he was already much more attached to this man than he was ready to admit._

_"You okay?"_

_He blinked slowly. Was he? This question had so many levels, so many doors. No, actually, he was not, was far from being okay. Yet right now, this very moment as he was being here with this oversized teddy bear, he did feel good. So right now, yeah, he was okay..._

_He didn't say it but he could read on the other man's face that he knew it. _

_Good. It was the answer which was shining in those gorgeous eyes._

_Ignoring the stinging in his ruined lips as he brought a grin up, he held the empty bowl towards Roman._

_"Nah, am not, cookies are empty."_

_"Jesus, what are you, a cookie-devouring void?" _

_"You were the one who got me hooked on that stuff, dude. Now feed me."_

_Taking the bowl from Dean's hand, Roman got up, slightly shaking his head while laughing a little, and he left the room to hopefully fetch some more of those edible endorphines. _

_With an inaudible sigh Dean slipped deeper until he was lying flat on the bed, his gaze ___fixed _on a random spot on the ceiling for a second or two, before he closed his eyes. It was quiet in here, allowing the world outside of these four walls to seep in. Sounds, coming from downstaies. A car, passing the house. The happy noise of playing kids. Birds. The faint barking of a dog._

_And there was the softness of this bed and the pillow. A scent like freshly washed linen surrounded him and there was another scent mingling into it. A unique one. Still new yet already so familiar. Like lavender._

_Roman..._

_With a sigh he cracked his eyes open, wondering why his mind was feeling so mushy all of a sudden, why hid eyelids felt leaden, almost too much to open his eyes. _

_A forearm came in view, pretty close to his face. Roman... was sitting there beside him on the bed. When had he come back? Turning his head a bit to gaze up, Dean realized that he was lying curled up on his side without knowing when he had turned over at all and... eyes, looking at him with softness and mild amusment._

_"You're snoring, Ambrose."_

_What the fuck... h__e'd fallen asleep...?_

_"Am not," he groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes as he rolled over onto his back. "Why didn't you wake me, man?"_

_"You were fast asleep when I came back. Thought you might need a little rest." A brief pause. Hesitation maybe and somehow Dean knew what would come next. "When was the last time you've really been sleeping?"_

_It was clear that Roman meant _sleeping_, as in really being peacefully asleep, not the tossing and turning kind of so called sleep or being caught in a not very restful drifting in a twilight of waiting for... probably the next... pain. Yeah, when had that been? Actually... yesterday, during those two hours when he'd been sleeping in well... in Roman's arms. He tried not to wince at the way it sounded. In Roman's arms. Huh..._

_He settled for: "In your car."_

_"That was only a two hours nap," Roman muttered, frowning unhappily. "I meant when has been the last time you're slept a full night through?"_

_He had no answer to this because... and so he kept quiet. Emotions fleeted through the other man's eyes. Eyes which were like doors to Roman's soul and bit by bit... yeah, bit by bit he learned to read them. And right now he could read that Roman was debating with himself whether to dig deeper into that topic or leave it be. For now._

_"Wanna sleep some more?"_

_Okay, so no digging deeper. Good. Really. And the idea of just closing his eyes and sleep a little longer in this comfy bed with all the soft pillows and duvet and... calming scents... was something he didn't really want to think about, because he would only end up wanting it._

_"Haven't come here for sleeping," he murmured, stretching carefully and bit his tongue as his body complained._

_The mattress bounced as Roman moved to lie on his side, bracing on an elbow as he gazed down at Dean, while he brought his other hand down to the hem of Dean's shirt that rode up up a bit due to the stretching, exposing a nicely flat belly. Dean felt his shirt being tugged down again, felt fingertips brush over his skin and it was good that the shirt was in place again or else Roman would have seen the heavy wave of goosebumps that was running over Dean's body at the touch._

_Uhm... okay?_

_"It's okay, you know? You can sleep here as long as you want if it does you good."_

_"Roman..."_

_"I mean it, Dean."_

Stop being too goddamn nice, Ro.

_Surprising himself by not flinching as the big hand settled on his belly, he replied hushed: "I know." And he kept gazing into Roman's eyes, couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. Those eyes had caught him from the first moment he'd really looked into them. "How long have I been out?"_

_"About an hour." The hand stayed there, its weight somehow... pleasant. How could the weight of a hand actually be pleasant? And was this something you did? Put a hand on your friends belly? Just like that? "Do you need anything?" Roman rumbled lowly._

Actually... I need this here, _Dean thought and quietly so, just to make sure Roman wouldn't hear it because he was sure that Roman _could_ hear his thoughts at times. However he was doing that shit. _I need all of this. This house, those bloody addictive cookies and self-made lemonade, I need this fucking bed and your ridiculously comforting scent on the pillows, I need...

_"Cookies." Smooth. "I need cookies."_

_"No more cookies for you, cookie monster. We'll have dinner in about twenty minutes."_

_Dean's fingers itched to put a hand on Roman's, not to peel it off but to just put his own hand on it. Keep it there. If someone had told him four weeks ago that he would seek bodily contact when for years it had been one of the last things he'd wanted, he'd probably told them to shut their puss. But four weeks ago there also hadn't been a Roman in his life._

_To good for this world fool..._

_"We'll be having dinner in twenty minutes and you ask me if I want to sleep some more? So sleeping the dinner away is okay but eating cookies is not?" he asked, brows raising to his hairline._

_"There's still time for some sleeping after dinner," Roman suggested._

_"Oooh, yeah, how about a sleepover?" Dean snorted._

_"Sure, why not? The bed's big enough and..."_

_"I was joking, Ro."_

_"_I_ wasn't," he heard his very personal Superman say just above a whisper and just like the soft touch on his belly just a moment ago had chased goosebumps all over his body, those two words, wrapped up in this low and warm and soft voice sent a tingling along down spine that settled in his belly, right below Roman's hand. "Stay over night."_

_"You trying to hit on me here, dude?" he chuckled in an attempt to laugh a strange feeling off that took hold of him, one he couldn't put a label on._

_It wasn't feeling bad though. Maybe... want? He _did_ want to stay here, no doubt. Need? Probably, too. _

_"Stay, Dean."_

_Serious. Sincere._

_His own voice was devoid of any emotion but bitter resignation as he replied stiffly: "I can't."_

_The hand on his belly moved, its fingers twisting in his shirt and the handsome features tensed briefly... before Roman pulled his hand back and a smile came to his lips again as the obvious urge to talk him into staying lost against the part of him that seemed to have decided not to push Dean._

_"Okay then, cookie monster, let's go down. My mom's already bursting with curiousity," Roman said but the smile never reached his eyes._

Chocolate mousse. Right there, a big bowl, waiting to be eaten and if it was only half as good as those bloody addictive cookies, then he would eat until it came out of his ears. Not that wasn't stuffed already like a turkey, no-no, because Mommy Reigns seemed to have made it her mission to feed him here until he would burst. He'd wanted to help cleaning the table and stuff but his attempts had been nipped in the bud and instead the lady had brought him some more lemonade.

Be our guest, feel good. Jesus, not only Roman was Mr. Goody Two Shoes. The whole family was like that. It was almost scary how nice Roman's parents were to him without actually knowing him. Like, really, here was a boy sitting at their table who looked as if he'd run full speed and face first into a wall and still there were no glances, no comments, no keeping a distance to the weird kid their son had dragged in here.

Dangerous. This here, he could get used to. All too fast, all too much.

A spoonful of mousse found its way into his mouth and shiiiit this was good. Edible sex. Legit. Although he could hardly say that aloud because how would that sound? Yo, Mommy Reigns, your mousse is sex! Uhm, wait... no. Another spoon followed. And another and yes, he was actually afraid that there wouldn't be enough mousse to satisfy the craving for it that grew with every bite he took.

His knee was nudged. He looked up, spoon in his mouth while blinking confusedly as he returned from his musing and he was greeted by three pair of eyes, looking at him in slight amusement.

"Mgh?"

Wow, eloquent, Ambrose.

"Dad asked what you're planning on doing after school," Roman smirked and Dean couldn't even blame him because he was probably looking pretty silly with that spoon sticking out of his mouth and his eyes wide in question.

Releasing the spoon with a quiet smack, Dean did his best to swallow the bit of mousse as graceful as possible under the intent gaze.

"Car mechanic or mechatronic technician," he replied then, watching as Roman closed his eyes and groaned while his dad began to grin widely. "Did I say... something stupid or...?"

"Oh, no-no," Roman sighed. "Not stupid. You just made my dad very happy because finally there's someone who's interested in cars."

Dean was sure that there was a big question mark blinking above his head because he couldn't follow Roman.

"I'm restoring a Chevy and my son here doesn't share my interest," Daddy Reigns explained, earning himself another sigh from Roman. "Have you already looked for an apprentice position?"

"No, not yet." _And it won't be that easy to find one with a black and blue face on regular basis_, he muttered in his mind. "What year? The Chevy?"

"It's a 76er. A beauty. She just needs a bit of care," the older man explained. "But I ain't got enough time."

"Not enough time, yeah," Roman cut in, grinning, as he pointed at his dad while looking at Dean. "The man has spent twelve years on that car and still hasn't restored it."

"If you would have helped me here and there, the car would have been restored a long while ago, young man," Daddy Reigns noted.

"I'm driving cars, I'm not restoring them. And we both know that you don't really want it to be fixed at all."

Dean watched the ping-pong between father and son for a moment, watched Mommy Reigns shake her head a little with a soft laughter on her lips and somehow... somehow there was a shadow settling over his good mood. This was family. This was everything he didn't have. Never had actually. And maybe it was good that the teasing back and forth between Roman and his dad ended this very moment before the shadow could really darken his mood.

Focusing back on Dean, Roman's dad said: "I have a car repair shop and the Chevy's there. Maybe you want to come over in a day or two and take a look at it? I could need a hand with her."

"I, uhm... yeah," Dean smiled. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

"Good! And if you want, we can talk a bit about a possible apprentice position, young man."

Briefly Dean was at a loss how to respond to that and a second he was tempted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream. If he hadn't been sitting already, he sure would have needed a chair now and suddenly Roman's words from this afternoon echoed in his ears.

_I know they'll love you._

He glanced over to Roman who gazed a him with a gentle expression, almost as if he wanted to tell him, see, I told you.

"That'd be great," he managed to say, although his tongue actually felt like it was sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He'd just been offered an appretice position. This was... he wouldn't have to... He blinked. He still couldn't believe it. It was a goddamn, fucking job he'd just been offered.

"Wonderful, dad is stealing my friend," Roman complained half-heartedly, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning back and the expression on his face was pretty much the one of a pouty child. "Do something, mom."

"Dean said the magic words, baby. Your dad will give him back to you sooner or later," he reassured him, patting his cheek before getting up to walk over to Dean. "Do you want some more mousse, Dean?"

About twenty minutes later his mind was still drifting in this sea of thoughts and he was so lost in it, that he didn't even realize that he'd been sitting alone on Roman's bed for a full minute without Roman being in the room, too. Only at the light touch on his knee he noticed that he wasn't alone anymore. Roman was kneeling in front of him, holding a small item in his hand.

"What's that?" he wanted to know, blinking slowly.

Roman raised a hand to Dean's face and Dean flinched. He didn't want it but it happened before he could stop it although he knew that Roman wouldn't do him any harm. He knew it. Just as he knew that those hands had always been gentle with him, had only brought comfort. And Roman... he saw that Roman noticed it and how could be not? Yet all Dean found on the handsome face was that expression that said: I know and it's okay, we'll get through this together. Fingers touched the bruised side of his face gently, travelling over it with the faintest of touches. Roman didn't want to hurt him. Someone touching him without the intention to hurt was still so new to him after all the time, leaving him craving for more of it and it was why he leaned into the touch ever so slightly, wanting more of it without being too obvious.

"It's a heparin ointment," Roman replied softly, pulling his hand back all too soon. "We'll put some on the bruises on your face and... if you let me, then I'll take care of your back, too..."

And here Dean found himself torn again for no actual reason, because Roman had seen those bloody bruises on his back yesterday already. Roman knew the truth. There was no reason not to take off the shirt now and allow him to do it, take care of the damage even if it was rather to make them both feel a bit better... somehow... than actually really doing something to make the bruises fade more quickly. A bit of heparin ointment wasn't enough to do that. But maybe it was enough to soothe those troubled waters in both of them a little.

"Okay," he whispered, giving the other man a light nod that was mirrored.

"Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"

"Yeah..."

Hurt him? Roman? No... Except maybe if... if all this turned out to be a bloody lie. But all that Roman had done and said, it couldn't be a lie, could it? Too much effort for a fucking joke, right? He watched as Roman put some of the ointment on his fingers and as he lifted his hand back up, Dean closed his eyes... and made that first tiny step again to just trust this man, like he'd done yesterday when he'd been falling asleep in those arms... which had made him feel safe. He couldn't remember a moment in his life that he'd felt that safe. It was almost ridiculous, wasn't it...?

A cool, damp touch on the side of his face... and he felt those fingers glide over it in gentle circles as Roman spread the ointment and... and how could someone like him, someone this massive and with such big paws provide such a _tender_ touch It was still a mistery to Dean. And this touch, it had the goddamn power to make him go all soft inside but there was still that voice in him that kept whispering unceasingly to him, telling him not to let _Roman_ happen because in the end there was no one but he himself he could trust and rely on blindly. Roman makes you weak, makes you a wimp, it murmured. Stand tall and fight, it whispered. Alone.

But right now... this touch, the other man's presence... everything about him said _trust me_.

He wanted to trust. He really did. For too long already he'd been alone in his dark little world and the faint taste of what Roman was willed to give to him had brought a bit of golden, warm light along that lightened the darkness around him.

The fingers on his face stilled... and vanished.

"Sorry, didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," Roman murmured.

What...?

"You didn't," Dean replied hushed, a bit confused, too, while he met Roman's gaze again.

Worry was there. Again. Somehow... always. But why would Roman think he'd done something that made him feel uncomfortable?

"But you, uhm... you tensed up."

He blinked slowly, realizing that Roman was right, that he had tensed up without even noticing it. His hands were clenched to fists, his shoulders drawn up a bit and stiff although there was no reason for going into this weird kind of a brace position.

Shit.

Explaining words were lying on his tongue but he could read in Roman's eyes that there was no need to explain. But the troubled waters weren't soothed yet, were they, and Roman deserved to see that his efforts weren't in vain. Willing his body to relax, Dean sat up a bit straighter and took his longsleeve off, or rather he tried to, but the aftermath of the last incident still left his body complaining.

"Can you, uh... can you... help me?" he asked quietly, feeling a bit silly for asking it though, but once more Roman chased that feeling away just like that by putting the heparin aside and giving him a hand here without the slightest hesitation.

He bit back a sound of discomfort at the sting in his side and his shoulder he felt as he lifted his arms and only a blink later the longsleeve was pulled up and over his head carefully, revealing the colorful evidence of _his_ concept of being a father. The shirt was put over the footend of the bed and suddenly he felt almost unbearably naked, not because he was sitting here with bare-chested, but because Roman could see _it_. It all.

_He's seen it,_ Dean reminded himself. _He knows it. It's okay..._

A glint was sparking in those gorgeous silver orbs, not pity but affection born compassion and with it a breathtaking softness showed up on the handsome face... and Dean averted his gaze, because it did something funny to his chest.

Too good for this world fool. Big, gentle teddy bear with those ridiculously broad shoulders to lean on... and arms to hide in... Goddamn Greek god with a heart of gold. Bastard... to leave his heart ticking in a rhythm it wasn't supposed to...

Fuck...

No, that couldn't be. Sure, Roman was the downright sexiest guy he'd ever laid his eyes on and he would have been lying if he'd said that he didn't feel a sexual attraction when it came to him but it was just that, wasn't it? This thingy that made his hear trip over itself was just there because he was mistaking this sexual attraction and the unvoiced gratefulness he was feeling as something else...

His musing was interrupted as Roman moved to climb on the bed and kneel behind him, the mattress dipping under his weight. Only a brief moment later he felt a careful touch on his back, travelling over it... lingering here and there a bit longer and there was briefest hesitation before it wandered along the path of that streak that led across his back and again as it found the one on his ribs.

Roman's touch was was soothing and calming. Once again it was dimming the pain, easing it. The bodily and the one he carried inside. Dean knew that this was nothing more than Roman taking care of a friend and if Seth would have been the one sitting here, then Roman would have done the exact same thing... yet the note those touches wore was... it was almost... loving. And it chased waves of goosebumps all over his skin, created a tingling along his spine. It shouldn't be like this because this was only a twisted imagination that made simple touches something they were not.

Roman was his _friend_.

... friend... friend... _friend_...

_Is it your father?_

It had been a legitimate question, one a friend would ask, and only a few days ago it had caused him to run away.

_Talk to me, Dean._

_Can't._

Actually... he had no fucking idea where to begin...

"Do I hurt you?"

"What?"

"You're tensing up again."

Roman brought both his hands up to Dean's shoulders then, just letting them rest on the tense muscles.

"No, I just..."

_... want to trust you..._

"What's wrong?" Roman asked softly, inching a tad closer.

His knees were framing Dean now and although there was only those hands on his shoulders, Dean _felt_ the other man, felt his presence in every fiber of his body. He fucking felt Roman as if he'd crawled right under his skin.

But maybe he had already done that...

_Trust me, I'm there for you._

"I'm trying..." he whispered, more to himself than to Roman actually, but the other man heard it nevertheless.

"I know," was the quiet reply, while thumbs began to brush back and forth on his shoulders.

"I, uh...it's like I'm, you know, _trapped_ inside myself..." Screwing his eyes shut, he hung his head and gritted his teeth. He really wanted it because... "I'm so sick of being alone..."

"You're not, Dean. You are not alone, you hear me? Not anymore. We'll get you out there..."

He had no name for the feeling that surged through him at those words. All he knew was that it pulled hard at those walls which kept him trapped and maybe it was that very last sentence that sounded so much as if Roman didn't only mean that fucking prison Dean _himself_ was but also his sick life, that pushed him enough to make him say it...

"I'm trying not to be there, you know?" It was barely a whisper, more a breath that as it passed his lips. The thumbs on his shoulders stilled. "I... uh, I'm trying to imagine that I'm , you know, somewhere else when it happens."

He puffed single and bitter laughter. The hands brushed down to his sides then, resting there as if Roman wanted to wrap his arms around him, not daring to do it though. He could have leaned back now but he didn't, not yet, because right now it was _too close_. He needed the bit of distance to make that last step out of that firmly locked room he was hiding in.

_Just one more step... one fucking step..._

"It's... he's my... stepfather..." It was like acid on his tongue. The hand stayed unmoving but he noticed how Roman leaned a bit closer, could hear him breathe now and whether it was because he was angry, shocked or sad, it was audibly restrained. I'm listening to you, that closeness said. I'm here. Let me help you. All this, it was like an unspoken mantra, resonating between them whenever Roman was close to him. "Six years ago my mother left. That bitch ran away and left me alone with the bastard," he ground out, gritting his teeth as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees while bowing his head a bit.

Roman's touch never ceased and it was good because it was the only reason he didn't get up now to run away from his own words. The fingers on his sides splayed soothingly. His own hands though clenched to fists, tight, tighter, until his nails dug into his palms painfully. There was a slight, nervous twitching in his right shoulder. The hand that had been resting on his right side smoothed up to it, settling there and then he felt Roman rest his forehead in the back of his neck.

"What about your father?" Roman asked just above a whisper.

"Fucker's in jail," Dean spat. Bam. That's my life and if it ain't a _party_, guys! "A complimentary ticket for him. No one's there to stop him."

"Can't you...?"

... stop him from beating you up? The question wasn't surprising, since Dean himself wasn't delicate of weak, but... there was always someone who was bigger and stronger, wasn't there?

"Tried to, Ro," he replied quietly. "I really did but he's... I'm no match for him. The last time I tried it, he broke my arm."

"Why's he doing that?"

Understandable that Roman did _not_ understand why something like that would happen. Dean didn't doubt that Roman knew very well that things like that happened all too often in this world but the why was probably something he couldn't understand. Or rather that the _why_ was only an empty word because there was actually no _answer_ to that _why_. The why could be anything. Or nothing.

Why? Because he'd been drinking.

Why? Because he had a crappy day.

Why? Just... because...

"Why..." Dean murmured. "Huh, he doesn't want me, Ro. That's why. He hated me from the first fucking day on."

"But if he doesn't want you, then why...?"

"The motherfucker gets money for the guardianship. And I guess he needs it, you know, to knock the stuffing out someone and how _convenient_ for him there's his hated stepson at hand," Dean gritted out, feeling his self-control crack. He should have known it would happen. "Stupid... and worthless... goddamn, freeloading, no good son of a bitch. Retarded big mouth. Know-it-all, asshole, jerk. The bloody bastard tells me that for more than six years now. _Six fucking years_. And I... huh, sometimes I think he's right, you know? There are... uh..." Dean's hands started to tremble then and he clenched them even tighter. But the trembling didn't stop, got worse instead, along with a quickening of his breathing. "There are moments when I think that I'm worth nothing... Every fucking day I climb to my feet somehow and hope that... _fuck_... I hope that things will change... but then all I get is another beating. The bastard beats me up and, huh... _I can't do a fucking thing about it_, I..." Roman moved away from him then, kneeling down in front of him and he took the clenched fists in his hands to gently pry them open. From the corner of his eye Dean noticed how Roman's breathing got faster, too, shallow, and he was sure that if he looked up now, that the other man's eyes would be glassy. There was a whispered _God, Dean_ and a hand that dove into his hair soothingly, gently pulling him closer, while the other closed around one of Dean's hand. And it felt good, this touch. _Good_. A word that hadn't been part of his vocabulary for a too long time. So long that he couldn't even remember anymore when there had beed something _good_ in his life... but that had changed now... Roman rested his forehead against Dean's then. "I guess the only reason he hasn't beaten me to death already is that he won't get the money anymore when I'm gone..."

A short pause in which he could hear the other man swallow hard and the usually rich voice sounded unfamiliar unsteady and choked as Roman said: "What about the youth welfare? Why don't you go there and tell them wha..."

"I did, Ro. I did. Every time I ran away and they brought me back to him, I told them what he's doing to me but they didn't care. It's always the same, you know? He tells them that I'm just a punk kid who goes out digging for trouble and they believe him. They fucking believe him... People don't care, Ro. _I don't count_. If I'd disappear right now, it wouldn't make a difference," Dean said just above a whisper... a shaky whisper, heavy with a grief he'd held back for too long already.

His brows furrowed slightly as his gaze stayed fixed on his their hands. It was the bloody truth because no one had ever given a damn shit about him, not one single soul had listened to what he had to say.

"But it would," Roman replied quietly, his hand wandering to the back of Dean's head to cradle it, adding as he inched closer: "It would make a difference to _me_, okay? You _do_ count, Dean. _You do._ Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You hear me?"

He felt a stinging in his eyes, hot, sharp. Tears which had never been shed, which refused to fall. Even now... His free hand came up, his fingers curling around the back of Roman's neck to hold him close and to anchor himself. The skin felt nicely warm and soft and the thick muscles felt pleasantly firm against his palm. And in the midst of all this it hit Dean that until this was the first time he really touched Roman, not to keep or push him away or to hold on to him because he had no other choice, but to actually _touch_ and _feel_ him.

"You can't go back," he heard Roman whisper.

"Huh, I don't have much of a choice, Ro."

"Stay, Dean."

His hand was squeezed lightly, emphasizing.

"You know that I can't."

_No matter how much I want to..._

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No, can't let you do that. What would you want to do anyway?"

"Tell him that if he touches you ever again, he won't see the next day."

It brought a smile to Dean's lips. Big, menacing Superman. Gentle teddy bear.

"No. No... Fuck, no. I... if you hurt him you'll get in trouble and... _fuck_... I... I've got no one but you..."

"Dean, I can't let you..."

Tightening his hold on the massive neck, Dean cut him off: "You were the one who stomped into my life and showed me this world full of cookies and don't you fucking dare taking it away from me again by doing something stupid!"

The moment wasn't over yet and the air between them was thick and humming with so many emotions and it was tangible that Roman wanted to object yet also that those last words made him not say it. And those emotions which were humming in the air, they also hummed in Dean. All that had happened today and yesterday and all the time before, it curled up in his chest and it stole his breath. All the bad things, the good things...

"I think I need a cookie now," he chuckled a bit breathless.

A pitiable attempt to pull them out of this twisted mood but Roman understood and despite the situation it earned Dean a soft snort.

"Sir, yes, sir, Captain Solo, sir."

Pulling back just enough so he could seek Roman's eyes again, he wondered where this path would lead him... them... to. It was unkown ground, stony and the chances to end up falling flat on the face were pretty high... although there was someone now who could and would catch him if he fell.

"Thank you, Ro," he said softly and his heart sped up for a fee beats at the glow that showed up in the grey orbs.

"Don't thank me too soon, Ambrose. You don't have the cookie yet," Roman grinned but the tinge in his voice made clear the he had understood what Dean had meant.

Grabbing a handful of black hair, Dean gave it a chiding tug.

"Gimme my cookie, you little shit!"

x

_"You're lucky, Roman. Your parents are great."_

_"I know. They said you're always welcome, you know? Mom already asked if you're coming over for barbeque on Saturday. And I'd be happy, too, if you'd come."_

_Please say yes. It was written in capital letters on Roman's face but Dean hadn't considered saying no anyway. Saturday nights were safe, because his stepfather was on tour on those nights._

_"Yeah, okay," he smiled and got a bright smile in response._

_With that he opened the car door and wanted to get out of the car, but a hand on his arm stopped him. His hand was taken and something was placed on his palm and it was a phone Dean found there._

_"My old phone with a prepaid card," Roman explained. "It's a pain in the ass that I can't reach you on phone and stuff. My number is in the speed dial. You can call me at any time, okay?"_

His fingers were closed around the small device and a part of him hoped that Roman would send him a message to end the day. It had been a battle with himself to get out of the car because every fiber in him cried to stay with Roman and his family. But it was okay because he had a way now to contact him. In way he wan't alone anymore even when Superman wasn't with him.

The sound of the closing door was loud in the quietness of the apartment that was dipped in a semi-darkness. Here and there was still alight on which his stepfather had forgotten to switch off before leaving to make the bit of money Dean had earned on the junkyard to booze.

With a sigh Dean ran a thumb over the phone, wondering if Roman was still waiting there in front of the house, staring at its not very pretty facade. Now his friend knew where he was living, still Dean insisted on keeping that other corner as their meeting point since it caused him a bad feeling to think that his stepfather might catch Roman off one day.

Pushing the door to his room open, he... froze, his heart stumbling painfully.

"Where the fuck have you been?!"

_He_ shouldn't have been here, should have be somewhere else drinking himself senseless until tomorrow morning. The man who was sitting on the bed, waiting for him, got up and came walking towards him. Tightening his hold on the phone, Dean kept quiet.

"I asked you something, you piece of shit!"

"Been visiting a friend," Dean forced out while taking a step backwards.

"Scum like you doesn't have friends. No one wants to waste their time with someone like _you_!"

Although it was twisted, there was a smile forming on Dean's lips, one he couldn't stop and it shouldn't be there because it was making the situation only worse. He knew it. And he could see it on the other man's face as the rage in it got brighter.

"It was the first and the last time, worthless bastard!"

A sick little sound, forming to a laughter, passed Dean's lips.

"You can yell at me as much as you want and you can beat the living shit outta me but you can't take _Roman_ away from me. You can't, you fucking bastard! Go ahead, punch my teeth out! Do it! But no matter how often you'll beat me, every time I step out of this apartment, Roman will be there and the moment I'll walk outta here forever, he'll be there, too!" he spat and he couldn't stop all the hate he was feeling for this man from pouring into it. It burned his tongue and he hoped, _hoped with all his heart_ that _somehow_ it would burn _him_, too. Straightening up to his full height, he braced himself for what he knew would happen now, yet there was a smirk on his lips as he hissed: " You've lost, motherfucker!"

The first blow was dodged by the arm he managed to bring up at the last second. The second one hit his shoulder with enough force to leave him stumbling backwards. The phone slipped out of his fingers, landing somewhere on the floor. A hand grabbed his shirt, pulling him back in and he used the momentum to throw a fist towards the hated face and it connected with a jaw. Teeth clicked. The taste of satisfaction was lying on his tongue and oddly enough it was the only thing he felt. No fear, no pain. Only... satisfaction. Rage flared up in the other man's eyes, emerging from beneath a veil of a drunken haze.

A fist landed in his stomach, causing him to bend double. It hurt... yet not. Closing his eyes he willed his mind to go back to this nice world of self-made cookies and lemonade, of soft pillows and sheets that smelled like Superman.

Hands in his hair, yanking his head up. Another blow. And another. His legs gave way, his knees hitting the floor hard. Something hard hit the side of his head... and his world blacked out.

Floating. He was floating... seconds... minutes? Blackness. Numbness. Until he was drifting upwards, breaking through a surface of glaring pain and he cried out but all that left his mouth was a broken wail. His body was inflame. He couldn't _breathe_. There was blood on his tongue and running down his throat.

_Ro..._

He fought to open his eyes, needed to open them. The phone... he needed to find the phone... and it was there, not far from him. With a pained, breathless groan he tried to stretch an arm out, the movement causing the pain to blaze up brighter and brighter... until his sight began to become fuzzy around the edges. But then somehow he held the phone in his hand, his thumb pressing the speed dial.

Two seconds, maybe three... until he heard the familiar rumble through the line.

"Hey, man, forgot something?"

Reaching out to Roman's voice as his vision darkened, he fought to bring air into his lungs.

"Ro?"

Barely even a breath.

_Help me..._

"Dean?" Roman asked alarmed. "What happened?"

"... _Ro_..."

_Please..._

His mind shut down under the tide of pain, its surge pulling him down. He fell... and the last thing he knew was his name being called faintly... before his world went black again...

- tbc -

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><p><strong>Now? Liked it? Tell me! :D<strong>


	6. By Your Side

Humpday = Ambreigns update day :)

I'm so happy that my little story keeps you entertained! And I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, too (although I admit it'll be difficult anyway to top the last one...).

Anyway, I wanna thank you all for coming back! Have fun!

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><p>The nightly air was mild and laced with the smoky scent of a barbecue and faint voices, carried over to him by a soft breeze. The neighborhood was illuminated by lamps in the yards and lights which were falling through windows and it seemed to chase the darkness of the night off. It was peaceful here, quiet. He could have fallen asleep right here and now and he wouldn't have to lose a fucking single thought about if something could happen to him. It was <em>safe<em> here.

And it was... awfully empty...

With a sigh he slipped a little deeper in the bench of the canopy swing, resting his head against top of the backrest while staring up to the canopy. His feet were planted firmly on the patio as he rocked the swing slightly back and forth, absentmindedly because his mind was somewhere else, had been ever since he had dropped Dean off.

"Dean..."

The name passed his lips as barely a breath. It was sweet on his tongue but that his friend wasn't here to hear it left a bitter note behind, just like seeing Dean walk away from his car had. Sitting there, watching him leave had felt as if Dean had been slipping from his fingers. He remembered his fingers clenching around the steering wheel, as if he could hold him back that way and he remembered how Dean had turned around a last time, gazing back at him with a cute smile on the kissable lips and a so very soft expression on his face, that it tore hard at Roman's heart.

The walls between them were gone now... but as he'd been seeing Dean like this, it had made it achingly clear that with tearing those walls down, that he'd laid bare what had been safely protected by them. No doubt Dean would have managed to claw his way out of this hell hole on his own, really, but in the end he was only human and although being tough as nails, his past had made him just as... fragile.

The wounds that run deepest are not the ones that leave the visible scars.

Don't go... it was what he'd been thinking, over and over again like a mantra. But Dean had vanished through that front door that was nothing less but the door to hell.

"Shit..." he breathed.

It hurt. It fucking hurt that he had to let Dean go, knowing that he wasn't safe there... knowing everything that had happened to him, that still happened and what Roman couldn't stop. He shouldn't have let him go back. If something happened to Dean now, then it would be his fault.

"Fuck..." A sharp whisper. Brows furrowing over closing eyes... fingers closing firmly around his phone. "Fucking shit..."

Call him, call him not? A part of him had hoped that Dean would call or text him, but the small device stayed stubbornly silent, not giving him the tiniest bit of reassurance by gracing him with that rough and too damn sexy voice with that heart tugging warm dye that lay in it or at least with a message, even if it would have been only a single word.

He snorted softly. Since Dean had hovered over that bowl with the cookies like Gollum over The One Ring, that word would probably have been exactly that. Cookie.

Lifting the phone up, he stared at its screen in an attempt to hypnotize the small device to fucking spit a message out and because it just wouldn't work, he scrolled thtough his contacts to send a message to Dean... and hesitated as the name was shown on the screen.

Don't push him.

He'd given him the phone, had told him that he can call any time and after this evening, he was sure that Dean would do it, call or message him if he wanted to. Maybe... if he was ready for it. Somehow, the way Dean had looked at the phone back in the car, it had seemed a bit like he'd been a bit... scared? No, that wasn't the right word. As if he'd felt crowded? Also not the right way to describe it. In a way that phone was a link between them, wasn't it? I'm not with you yet I am. I can be there if you want me to or if you need me, all it takes is to push tiny button. And maybe that was the thing about it, that so much attention, so much _someone being there_ was still too much for him. But there had also been a happiness lying in his eyes while gazing at the phone.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a figure appear at his side, sitting down beside him. Rolling his head against the backrest, he looked over to his father.

"Hey, dad," he murmured, giving the older man a weak smile.

A cold coke was handed over to him. The hand with the phone dropped to his thigh, while he lifted the coke to his lips to take a sip.

"Your mom and I, we've been talking a bit while you've been away," his father said, fixing his gaze on a random spot in the yard.

"Talking?"

"Yeah, about Dean." He blinked at his father, waiting for him to continue. "Your mother says that he's an amiable young man."

Amiable. Laughing softly, Roman thought that this was totally a word his mother would use but, yes, Dean was... amiable. Much so, if one only put a bit of time and some effort into looking closer at him.

"And you?" he asked quietly, watching as his father nodded lightly.

"I think she's right," the other man replied, glancing over to him. "And he's into cars."

Rolling his eyes, Roman snorted: "Praise the lord!" It earned him a chuckle. "Dad? You're serious about the apprentice position, aren't you?"

"Sure, why are you asking?"

"Just because... I don't think he would cope well if it wouldn't work out for him, you know? If he ends up not having a job. He needs it."

"Don't worry, junior. If he wants the job, he has it." Crossing his arms over his chest, his father sighed quietly and tilted his head a bit to the side. "Dean's a smart boy. I like him. And _you_ like him and if it was the only thing I knew about him, then it would be enough for me. Seeing you putting so much effort into the kid, he can only be someone very special."

"Yeah," Roman mumbled, smiling. "Yeah, he is. Thanks, dad."

A smirk was forming on the older man's lips.

Then: "Also, he's into cars."

"Dad..."

"What?"

"Maybe you should make a tag with _he's into cars_ you can hold up so you don't need to say it constantly."

A gentle pat on his thigh, bringing soft laugther along.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but can it be that there is more than just friendship from your side?"

The question caught Roman off guard and for a second he could only gape at his father, trying to file whether he meant that Dean was being his boy or... more. It didn't make a difference though, his parents had really never had a problem with him being gay, yet he'd never had brought a boyfriend home.

"He just started to trust me," Roman explained, gazing back up to the canopy. "I want to be his _friend_, you know? I want him to know that I'm there for him no matter what."

"I see," his father said hushed, before reaching over to tap the spot right above Roman's heart. "But he _is_ in there already, isn't he?"

"Dad," Roman muttered, brushing his father's hand off.

"It's the first time I see you like this, junior. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you know? So?"

"I... yeah," he breathed, a sad little smile playing on his lips. "But that's not important right now. Don't get hopes up anyway that there's a chance that he feels the same, so..."

Roman shrugged his shoulders and took another sip from the coke, while running a thumb over the phone in his hand. Another breeze brought light laughter along and it made him wonder how it would sound to hear Dean laugh, a real and wholehearted laughter. He really wanted to hear that one day. And... every human being had the goddamn, fucking right to laugh like that, right...?

"Is it his dad?"

"His stepdad," he replied very, very quietly.

Why should he keep it unsaid? Dean probably wouldn't want him to tell anyone about it but how should he find a way to help him if he kept the shit to himself? And who else should he trust with this but his parents?

"How often?"

"Too often..." And here it was again, the rage, coiling up in his guts. "I found him working at the junkyard yesterday and he was... I... I mean, you've seen his face and... He could barely stand on his own yesterday. Dad, I don't know what to do. All I want is to make sure he's safe but..." He trailed off, swallowed hard and exhaled a heavy breath then. "Fuck, I don't know what to do..."

"Your mom and I, we talked about that, too. I know someone at the youth welfare office and I'm gonna talk to him. We'll find a way to help Dean, okay?"

"Okay." He looked over to his father, opening his mouth to speak but for another brief moment he hesitated. There was this bad feeling he couldn't get rid off, sitting in his guts ever since he'd dropped Dean off but what should he say? Let's go there, now, and do something, _now_? And even if his dad would agree, then... what? "Uhm, dad? When will you have that talk?"

"I'm gonna do the call on Mon..." his father began, but fell silent as the ringing of a phone cut in.

The phone. It took Roman a short moment until it sank into his busy mind. The phone in his hand, it was calling him. Sitting up straight, he looked at the screen and it was showing... Dean... and he didn't even try to stop the smile that grew on his lips.

Hitting the answer button, he rumbled down the line: "Hey, man, forgot something?"

For a second there was no reaction, only... breathing. And it sounded somewhat weird, unsteady and ragged.

Then: "Ro?"

It was barely even a breath but it washed through him like a freezing cold shower, causing his heart to miss a few beats and his guts to knot up.

"Dean?" Roman asked alarmed, getting up from the swing. "What happened?"

Nothing for a second again except the ragged breathing that got more and more shallow, stealing his own breath as panic and fear made his spine tingle.

His name was breathed down the line. A quiet thud followed, as if the phone had been dropped to the floor.

"Dean?!"

Nothing. No reaction. The world around him fell silent as if every sound had been sucked out of it and all there was left was the barely there sound of too weak breathing through the line. He didn't end the call as he ran to his car, ignoring his father's call, his mother's hand that reached out to stop him...

_Dean..._

x

The knocking was loud in the quietness of the stairwell. The two officers looked at each other at the lack of reaction, although it was audible that someone was in the apartment. It had been luck that a lady had just left the house the moment they arrived there, telling them the number of the apartment Dean was living in.

His father had caught up to him the moment he'd opened the car door, had told him that he would come with him. Half of the way Roman been holding the phone to his ear, listening to the oh so faint sound of shallow breathing before suddenly there had been another sound. Steps. And right after the line had been dead and for long seconds Roman hadn't been able to breathe. The line was dead and it hadn't been Dean who'd ended the call. He tried not to think about what that meant, tried hard to keep the images his mind came up with down somehow.

The police had been here already when they arrived. He couldn't even tell when his father had called them. The way was a mere blur. Again one of the officers knocked, called to whoever was moving about the apartment to open the door.

"I know Dean's in there," Roman said, his voice unfamiliar breathless to his own ears and obviously also to his father's ears, because a hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Dad, I know that..."

The door opened, making him fall silent mid-sentence and it wasn't Dean it revealed. The guy who was standing there was tall, broad. Massive. Much more than Dean. And now Roman knew what Dean had meant with that he wasn't being a match for his stepdad. The man crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe with a carefully blank expression. Waiting.

"Sir, is it possible to talk to your son?" one of the officers asked politely. "We have a few question's for him."

"He's not at home," the man answered slowly.

It was a lie. It had to be. _Dean was here_, Roman _knew_ it. The rage which had been simmering in his guts was flaring up brightly and he couldn't help the slight trembling that took hold of him.

Taking a step closer, he hissed: "He's lying! Dean _is_ here!"

"Roman, stop," his father said, planting a hand flat on Roman's chest to push him back a little. "Let the men do their jobs."

"I told you he is _not_ here," the man repeated, raising an eyebrow while looking back at the cops. "What has he done this time?"

"We would like to talk to him first, sir. Do you know where he is at the moment?"

Pushing away from the doorframe, the man put a hand on the door as if he was about to close it again.

_Fuck, no. No!_

"No, I have _no_ idea, officer. He left an hour ago."

"It's a fucking lie! I know he's here!" Roman hissed, the hand on his chest keeping on holding him back as he once again wanted to step forward. "Dean!"

There was a soft thud, so quiet that it almost got lost yet it was there and the reaction of the cops, both tilting their heads a bit to gaze past Dean's stepfather, told Roman that they had heard it, too.

"Sir, we would like to see ourselves that your son isn't here, so if you..."

"No. What the fuck is going on here?"

The man's gaze jumped from the cops to Roman and his dad and back again and from under the blank mask there was an emotion becoming more and more visible, one that Roman knew all too well. Rage.

"These gentleman have reported a suspicion on domestic violence," the other officer explained.

The emotion that flashed up briefly on the other man's face had no name, but it swallowed the shadow of the rage Roman had seen there, covered it and all it left behind was a sneer. Roman's heart sped up.

"Domestic violence? Oh, I _understand_. See, he tried making people believe that before. The youth welfare was here often enough, surely someone there can give you the reports and you can assure yourself that it's nothing but a lie. You know, my _son_ goes out and digs for fights so if he runs around with a shiner, then only because he got himself into some shit. And now good night, gentlemen."

With that the man stepped back to close the door. It was that very moment that another quiet sound caught Roman's attention. A soft rustling and a light scratching. And... a low moan. And then everything happened so damn fast.

A hand appeared in the doorway to one of the rooms in the apartment, closing around the frame. Bloody fingers... trying to find a hold.

_No!_

A shout fell from Roman's lips... Dean's name... and with it he forced the hand on his chest off and moved forward. With a growl he kicked the not yet fully closed door back open. His hands connected with the other man's shoulders to shove him out of the way. Faintly he heard his name being called. _He didn't stop_. His eyes were fixed on those fingers... and the hunched figure that appeared in the doorway, leaning shakily against the frame. Blood... blood was covering the left, badly bruised side of his face, trickling from a big gash on Dean's forehead. There was a nasty swelling around his left eye...

_Dean. _

Dean's gaze locked with his. Recognition and relief glinted in the otherwise dull blue eye that was screwed shut suddenly, the battered face contorting in pain.

"_Ro_..."

He watched as Dean's legs gave out, watched him slide down the the frame and he covered the distance of six, maybe seven meters in the shortest of times yet it seemed endlessly long to him. Closing his arms around his friend, he lowered him down to the floor as gentle as possible as the weight pulled him down mercilessly, until he kneeled on the ground with Dean more lying than sitting between his legs.

There was loud noise in the background, voices yelling but it all faded out as the world around him fell silent and everything in him narrowed on Dean, who was leaning heavily against him. His face was buried against Roman's shoulder and Roman could feel a warm dampness soaking his shirt there. Blood. Bringing a hand up, he cradled Dean's head against his shoulder, his other arm wrapped around the leaner frame to hold him safe. Roman's heart was pounding hard in his chest. He tried to breathe, fought to bring air into his lungs but the cold grip that closed around his chest made it almost impossible. Sickness coiled up in the pit of his guts.

_This can't be happening... this can't be happening..._

There was a slight movement against him and a touch on his arm as weak fingers were twisting in his shirt and the faintest of tremblings ran though the body in his arms.

"_Ro...?_"

Not more than a whisper.

"I'm here, 's okay Dean," he said, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "You're safe now."

He blinked back hot tears as he brushed his hand softly over the blond hair while tightening his hold on Dean just a little bit. From the corner of his eye he noticed someone kneeling down beside them. A hand on his shoulder. His father's hand. The ambulance will be here soon, he heard him say.

"Stay with me, Dean," he mumbled, doing his best to ignore that the already weak hold on his shirt got even weaker and that the tension that had been left in Dean was fading. "Don't think about doing something stupid, you hear me?"

A breathless moan... and the trembling which was running through Dean died away. He felt the fingers letting go of his shirt, the hand slipping down to his thigh... and the body in his arms went slack.

_No!_

For an agonizingly long moment he couldn't move... until he heard it again, that shallow breathing.

_God, thank you..._

"I've got you," he whispered, holding his friend as close as he dared to. "Hang on..."

Closing his eyes he concentrated on the shallow breathing, willed the paramedics to hurry while he kept whispering to Dean...

_... stay with me..._

x

Four hours. No... five. Five hours since that moment he'd closed his arms around this battered body, begging Dean to stay with him. Five hours since he'd heard his name being whispered the last time before Dean had become too still. Five hours of waiting, hoping. Of hurting. It fucking _hurt_ him beyond words to see Dean like this, knowing what he must have gone through... although... Roman couldn't really imagine the horror and the pain Dean had been going through.

Five too long hours without the tiniest of signs that Dean was about to come round again and it almost killed Roman not to know what was wrong, which injuries Dean had suffered, because the doctors refused to tell him. All he knew was that Dean wasn't hovering between life and death, what was actually calming yet not, because Dean _just wouldn't wake up_. But Roman was thankful that he was allowed to sit here at his bed.

Whispering his friends name, he let his gaze wander over the unmoving body, taking in the evidence of what had happened, the damage that wasn't covered by the blanket. Bruises, abrasions all over Dean's upper body, worse than the last time. So much worse... The nasty swelling around his left eye, on his cheek, the ruined lips. And that thick bandage on his forehead that covered the laceration there just above his left eye.

"I'm sorry..."

He squeezed the hand he was holding lightly, lifting his free hand up to the battered face to gently run his fingertips over the sore cheek. How much more damage was hidden under the blanket, he didn't know, because after the doc had allowed him to sit here, he hadn't dared to take a glimpse under the blanket.

"I'm so sorry, Dean..."

Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Dean's shoulder while his fingers moved up to carefully dive into the blond locks. Maybe Dean only needed some rest. Maybe his body demanded it after all the time of being abused. Be patient. It was what Roman told himself over and over again and he had no other choice anyway, had he? All he could do was waiting and be there for Dean when he woke up. At least panic and fear had subsided, but it had given way to anxiety. What would happen now? With Dean? He was away from stepfather for now, wouldn't have to go back to him but no way the youth welfare would allow him to live alone. He knew that his father was talking to someone from the youth welfare this very moment and he hoped, prayed that Dean... that he would be allowed to stay with them.

It all, it was a blur somehow. He knew that the police took Dean's stepfather away and that his father kept talking to him while he kneeled there, holding Dean, that eventually the ambluance arrived and that he had to let go of his friend... but his memory only showed him a rush of sounds and fragments of images, as if he was fast forwarding a movie. But at least this movie had a happy end.

"It's over, Dean. You don't need to go back to him," he said hushed, his thumb brushing back and forth on the back of Dean's hand. "And dad's doing his best that you can stay with us."

Why did it take so long? It all... He wished his dad would come walking in here finally to tell him that the youth welfare had agreed to his suggestion... but even more he wished those baby blues would open again. _Now_.

"He won't die, Rome. Get a grip."

The sudden voice made him flinch hard, caused him to stiffen the very moment the words sunk in. Sitting up straight, he gazed over to the person who was standing in the middle of the room. Seth. And Roman wanted to say something... like asking him what the hell he was thinking by saying this because Dean was lying here, battered and unconscious... but all he could do was stare.

"Rome..." Seth sighed then as he came walking over to Roman, fetching a nearby chair to sit down beside him. A hand was laid in the back of his neck soothingly. "Look, Dean is not weak, so don't treat him as _if_ he is. He went through this shit on his own for more than six years and he always got back on his feet. You love him and you're worried. I'm worrying about him, too, and I understand that you want to help him but treating him like fragile glass is not the right way and if you're honest, you know that. You got him out of that hell hole and now just be there for him. He _will_ need you and he'll show you what and when."

Blinking slowly, Roman kept staring at his friend, saw him nod a little and smile softly.

_I mean no harm, you know I'm your friend. _

Sure he knew it. He knew it with every fiber of his body because there was an undeniably strong bond between Seth and him, had been from the first words they had exchanged. And he also knew that Seth was right with what he'd said.

"Besides... what you did was pretty careless, Rome. What if you or your dad would have gotten hurt?"

The expression in those big brown eyes changed to a mix of deep worry and _goddamn idiot._

"I know," Roman said while his gaze jumped to Dean's face immediately. "But what else should I have done?"

"Not playing the hero and let the cops do their jobs? They would have found a way to get in there," Seth suggested softly, covering the Roman's hand which was holding Dean's and it was soothing the storm in Roman a little. "Come on, eyes back on me." After a brief moment Roman managed to wrench his eyes away from Dean again but only reluctantly. "Do yourself a favor and try to be a little less perfect, okay? You'll still be perfect enough then. And stop worrying so much, you're not helping him with being a devastated wreck when he wakes up. He's tough and he'll be back on his feet in a week or two."

"Gosh, Rollins, stop being so disgustingly grown-up," Roman laughed quietly.

The laughter became a shaky sigh as Seth leaned in and rested their foreheads together. It was like refuelling, this contact, so badly needed.

"Someone has to take care of you, big bro," he heard him mumble and a smile was audible in it, yet it was a bit dimmed. "You're putting all of you into Dean right now and that's okay, but I can't have you getting _lost_ in it. And not only Dean needs you, you know? I do, too."

Roman's hand left he blond locks then only to find to the dark patch of Seth's hair, holding his friend close because he needed to refuel himself a bit more, just a bit longer...

_Li'l bro... calm anchor... soul mate..._

"You won't kiss me again now, will you?" Seth chuckled lightly.

Despite the situation Roman had to grin as the memory of that kiss popped up, bringing the taste of cherry lip balsam along, just like the feeling of pleasantly soft lips and he couldn't be blamed for kissing Seth, could he? It was an unwritten law that pretty, fawn-eyed guys with soft lips had to be kissed.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Roman murmured. "Admit it, pretty boy..."

A second. Two. Three. Long seconds in which Roman felt his friend's breath fan over his face, felt how those lips being closer somehow than just a moment before and he wondered who it had been that shortened the little distance. There was a hitching in Seth's breathing. Brief... but there.

"Dunno. Was a bit lame," Seth teased then, pushing and itching a part of Roman that truth to be told was up for a little game.

And also... for a bit of distraction.

"Can do better than that," he rumbled.

The hand that was covering his own moved a little, fingers curling around his own and Dean's hand, hooking under them.

"I think those better kisses belong to Dean," Seth said just above a whisper.

I don't think that he wants them... it was what was lying on Roman's tongue yet he left it unsaid. But Seth was right. Again. And it wouldn't have been fair anyway to kiss his best friend just because the chances that the man he loved reciprocated his feelings were close to null.

"Yeah," he sighed, pulling back to lock gazes with Seth again. Smirking slightly he added: "Was it really lame?"

The smirk mirrored on his friends lips.

"No. No, it wasn't lame," was the answer. "But it felt a bit like kissing a nailbrush."

With a snort Roman released the dark strands from his fingers but not without giving them a playful tug. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling to their joined hands and while he looked at them, he dropped back into reality.

"You wouldn't have needed to come here," he breathed, not looking back up again.

He had sent a message to Seth after arriving at the hospital to tell him what had happened but he wouldn't have expected him to come here in the middle of the night. Not that he minded having him here, quite the contrary.

"You're kidding me, right? Dean is my friend. The fuck I'm gonna stay at home after a message like that and... do you really think I'd let you sit here alone?"

Shaking his head no, Roman glanced over to Seth, before his eyes found back to Dean's face. Still... nothing. If those bruises wouldn't have been, he could have looked like being peacefully asleep.

"How did you know where I am?"

"Met your mom down at the entrance," Seth explained. "She said something about going home to get the guestroom ready for Dean. So he'll stay with you?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Roman closed his eyes and rolled his head. He was tired and the muscles of his neck and shoulders began to ache and feel stiff, now that the tension slowly faded from him. Seth worked soothing on him, obviously.

"Hope so. Dad is talking to someone from the youth welfare."

Roman felt the hand on his being taken off, heard his friend hum and get up, stepping behind him. Hands on his shoulders... gently digging, smoothing, loosening... With a low groan, he dipped his head back against the other man's belly and as he opened his eyes to gaze up, he was greeted by the warm glow of affection lying in the brown eyes, in the gorgeous features.

"Thank you, pretty boy," he smiled, thinking that it was cute beyond words that Seth actually blushed at that.

A fond slap on his shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Reigns."

"But you are and lying is a sin, you know?"

"Save your sappy words for Dean, Don Juan," Seth snorted. "Already tried to kiss him awake? Love can work healing, you know?"

Raising an eyebrow, Roman muttered: "Ssh, no need that he hears that."

He wasn't sure if he was ready to explain himself if Dean heard about his feelings for him.

"Yeah, well, him hearing us would at least mean he's awake again."

Awake again... yeah... If he only knew why Dean wasn't awake yet because it kept gnawing at him, kept feeding the bad feeling that refused to leave him.

"I shouldn't have let him go back home in the first place..." he mumbled, rolling his head a bit against Seth's belly.

"Stop that, will ya? We both know there's nothing you could have done to prevent this. He couldn't have stayed with you, Rome, because sooner ot later someone would have come to bring himback to his stepfather."

"That's not gonna happen again," a new voice stated and it made Roman sit up straight.

"Dad?"

His father was walking in, together with a white clad man and the expression he found on his father's face gave his heart reason to jump happily.

"Dean can stay with us for now. The social welfare worker said that they'll have to check some things before they can give their final okay, but the chances are good that he will be allowed to stay with us until he comes of age."

A relieved sigh dropped from his lips, mingling with Seth's _thank God_ and he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the mattress, lifting Dean's hand to press its back against his forehead while his heart did a tap dance in his chest. A soft sound beside him told him that Seth had sat back on his chair again. A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

It's okay now, it said. It was. Almost.

Without looking at the two men standing in the middle of the room he asked: "Why isn't he waking up?"

"We sedated him." The doctor's voice. "But he should wake up in a few hours."

"How long will he have to stay here?" Seth wanted to know.

"If there won't be any problems within the next hours, he'll be allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow already," the doctor explained. "His left shoulder was dislocated and he suffered various bruises and superficial cuts. The laceration on his forehead needed suturing but it should heal without any problems. He's probably having a minor concussion and there is a big bruise in the left kidney area. We're not sure yet if he suffered a contusion of the kidney, too."

Now Roman _did_ look up, gazing at the man with wide eyes. Their joined hands sank back down to the mattress but his hold on Dean's hand tightened involuntary.

"Contusion of the kidney?" he asked alarmed.

"Yes, but we don't expect it to be more than a first grade contusion. He'll have back pain in the lower back for a while and he may feel sick. He will need a lot of rest for the next days but don't worry, he'll be okay soon."

"Thanks, doc," he breathed. No serious damage... and Dean would be okay. _He would be okay..._ His eyes found back to Dean's face, wandered over it for a moment. "I'm staying with him," he said quietly.

"I'm staying, too," Seth added as he scooted closer, laying a hand on Roman's and Dean's again.

There was no objection uttered, neither from the doctor nor his father and he wouldn't have listened to it anyway, even if it would have meant that he had to sneak back into the room after being kicked out. The doctor nodded and left and after a moment of silent gazing at them, Roman's father left, too.

Quietness settled over the room as they sat there, hand joined like a symbol for the bond they shared, and in that quietness there was only the soft sound of shallow breathing but this time it was calm. It was _okay_. It was the breathing of someone who was sleeping peacefully and this time Dean wouldn't wake up to a nightmare again...

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><p><strong>Okay, so I hope you liked it? Tell me, guys :)<strong>


	7. Cookie-Land

Author-puppy-me is a tail-wagging fluff-ball of happiness XD

So much love from you guys! *heart-eyes*

And once again I hope you won't be disappointed with my freshly baked Humpday-Ambreigns-update :3

PS: *holds out kleenex boxes* I know I'm late with giving you guys tissues but maybe you will have use for them for the next chapters. Who knows? ;)

* * *

><p>Thick and heavy blackness, perfectly calm. He drifted in it, afloat in leaden numbness... voices... faraway... and touches... so soft... and he... he knew those touches... could trust them... he knew those touches could make it better again...<p>

... floating... drifting towards a faint light and being pulled back down into darkness, into that peaceful nothing...

_Ssh, Dean... it's okay, you're safe. No one's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you. Ever again._

Ro?

_Yeah, I'm here._

Ro...

A familiar scent in the midst of nothing, so calming, cocooning him...

_I'm here, Dean, 's okay... you're safe now._

... touches... so gentle...

_I've got you. Stay with me..._

_... Ro..._

Those touches were urging him and Roman... he was calling him... and he fought to open his eyes but he was so tired... so fucking tired and somehow he knew that he should be howling in pain... but he wasn't hurting. All there was... was this numbness... A touch on his face... in his hair, so very gentle...

It got brighter, that light, seeping into the blackness... illuminating, washing the nothing away to lay conciousness bare and with it came pain. It was faint but it was there. A weak moan escaped his throat and he fought to open his eyes. The pain got stronger with every moment. His head began to pound and his shoulder was throbbing. His left side felt as if a knife was sticking in it.

"Dean? Come on, open your eyes."

Worry... thick in the low rumbling. Roman was calling him... and he could do it. Open his eyes... he needed to... just open them... Brightness. There was brightness... and worried grey eyes gazing at him...

"Ro...?"

... yet there wasn't only worry but also deepest affection...

"Hey..." A hand smoothing over his hair. "Welcome back, Han Solo."

The light around them was bright, glaring and there was lots of white. Strange sounds and scents.

"Where...?" he rasped, wincing as the ache in his side and his head flared briefly.

His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of it. So fucking thirsty...

"You're in a hospital," Roman explained hushed.

Hospital? His heartrate spiked and he wanted to sit up but it only made the pain worse, drawing another weak moan from him. A hand settled on his chest, carefully holding him down but he wouldn't have been able to sit up anyway.

"Shit..." he groaned, screwing his eyes shut again. Fucker had done a perfect job. "Fucking hurts..."

"I know," Roman soothed. "They'll give you painkillers in a minute." He wanted to drop back into that nothing, didn't want to be here now and hurt. Fucking wasn't fair. The hand on his chest stayed there, slowly rubbing soothing circles. And then steps, coming in and over to him. "Okay, the nurse is giving you something."

Keeping his eyes screwed shut a moment longer, he breathed against the pain. There was the voice of a woman, telling them that the influx of pain was the worst and that it would get better now. Fuck this, he hadn't signed up for this shit and how could it be that he had gone from being too fucking tired to even open his eyes to being too damn fucking awake within only a few seconds?

The doctor will be here soon, he heard the nurse say. And then she left again.

"Is it getting better already?" Roman asked quietly, keeping his hand on Dean's chest, not rubbing circles anymore but letting it rest on the spot right above his heart.

Was it? Yeah, maybe a little and as the pain dimmed, he returned from being too damn awake to just being awake while his mind engulfed itself with a certain fuzziness again. Eventually his body let go of a tension which Dean hadn't even noticed having taken a hold on him.

"... 's better," he mumbled, breathing a sigh right afterwards. "Want out of here."

"The doc has to check on you first," Roman murmured and squeezed his hand and it was now that Dean realized that it had been there the whole time, that their hands were joined. Weakly he squeezed back. "I texted dad that you're waking up and I guess he'll be here soon. He'll check you out if the doc gives his okay."

Getting out of here. It was what he wanted, only that there was an error in this plan because it meant that... that he had to... go back...

His fingers closed tighter around Roman's while his heart sped up again in a mixture of rage and fear.

"_No!_"

The word passed his lips as a mere breath while his eyes snapped open. The sudden impact of the bright light above him stung in his eyes, lightening the fragments of the memory of what had happened. Roman moved beside him, sat down on the edge of the mattress while his hold on his hand never ceased. The one which had been resting on his chest moved up to cup his cheek tenderly while those by now oh so familiar grey eyes gazed down on him in deepest worry again.

"Hey, calm down," Roman soothed. "You're breathing too fast. Sssh, Dean, everything is okay. It's okay, you're safe. Nothing will happen to y..."

"Can't go back," he forced out somehow as he sat up despite not the fully faded pain and it made it worse again.

Letting go of his hand, Roman wrapped his arms around Dean's upper body, both to steady him and to pull him against the broad frame, holding him close even as he struggled against the hold.

"Calm down, Dean. Hey, calm down, you don't have to go back to him. You hear me? You're not going back..."

It took a moment... until his mind processed what Roman had just told him. He stopped struggling then and simply leaned against Roman while clinging to those words and biting back the pain. His heart was still running in his chest while he just breathed deeply for a few seconds, before he could speak again.

"But..."

"You are _not_ going back," Roman repeated hushed. "The police has jailed your stepfather."

Drawing back a bit, he searched Roman's eyes for a comfirmation that he was really hearing right.

"The police?"

"Yeah, the police. We called them, you know, after you called me and..." Roman fell silent and swallowed hard. "My father talked the youth welfare into letting you stay with us."

His still not really clear mind tried hard to catch up and for a long moment he wasn't sure if he was really awake or if this was a weird dream.

"Why would they do that?" he breathed, blinking slowly while willing his spinning thoughts to slow down. "They don't even really know me..."

"They like you, Dean. Mom said that you're an _amiable_ boy," Roman said, his voice taking on a higher pitch as he imitated his mother, probably attempting to lighten the mood. "No really, they like you. And they say that a good boy like you deserves a chance."

A good boy... huh, yeah...

"I'm not a good boy..."

"Don't say that. You _are_." A hand found to his hair and fingers smoothed through it. "You know that you are."

_Sometimes it's better to be happy about a good thing instead of thinking it to death._

Seth's words echoed in his ears and it was what for now made him not question why people who didn't really know him would put up with all that being responsible for him would bring along. They fell silent, and Dean could only gaze at this man who so stubbornly believed in him. Things were humming in the bit of space between them, he could feel it, even through the overwhelming rush of this unreal situation and it seemed that Roman felt it, too, because he pulled his hand back and let go of Dean and whatever it had been, it was gone as suddenly as it had come as Roman stood up.

"You thirsty?" Roman asked as he walked over to the nearby table to get a glass and a bottle of water.

"Fuck yes, my throat feels like sandpaper," Dean rasped, gratefully taking the glass that was held out to him.

"You missed Seth." Dean spyed over the rim of the glass while he swallowed the cool water greedily, frowning at Roman. "I texted him while I've been waiting for you to wake up. He came here and spent the whole night sitting with me at your bed."

Lowering the glass, he blinked at Roman who took it from his hand to place it on the small table beside the bed.

_I like you. I even dare to say that you're my friend although you might be thinking otherwise._

Seth had said that to him, not all too long ago while they'd been sitting in the bleachers during Roman's training and already back then he'd thought that it felt good to hear that Seth considerd him a friend and it made him feel guilty because he'd never shown Seth that... that he was considering him a friend, too. He did, really. At least as much as he was able to be friends with someone. But he was learning, wasn't he? To trust? To _be_ a friend?

Still he asked: "He really did that?"

Maybe he asked this because it still didn't fit into the world he was used to that someone actually cared for him.

Roman nodded.

"Yeah, the whole night. He's worried about you, you know? I sent him home about an hour ago to get some sleep and take a shower," his friend explained, standing up to grab some clothes from a nearby table. "He wanted to be back in..." Roman glanced at his watch. "In about two more hours but with a bit of luck we'll be out of here in less than an hour. Gonna text him. Think it'll be better if he comes over tomorrow. You need to rest."

He handed the clothes over to Dean while flipping the blanket back. The very first second Dean felt the urge to quickly pull it back to cover... it... but they had passed that point already and it was what he was telling himself now. Roman has seen it already. He knows it. No need to hide it anymore. It didn't go unnoticed by him though how Roman winced ever so slightly as if it was hurting him to see it, yet Dean wouldn't have been surprised if it _really_ did hurt Roman. Somehow.

He wanted to reach out as the features of the handsome face suddenly seemed strained but hesitation kept him from doing it. It was a hesitation without a real reason because this point, hadn't they passed it, too?

_Fuck, yes..._

And as Roman perched on the mattress, dipping his head forward a little while pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, Dean managed to stop thinking too much for a moment and just brought his good arm up and around the other man's neck to pull him closer. Roman's hand dropped to his thigh. Their foreheads touched.

_Good..._

"It's my fault that you're here now. I should've done something, I..."

It was a mere whisper but the guilt was loud in it. It fucking shouldn't be like that. This wasn't right.

"Don't say that," he hushed Roman. "It's not your fault and there's nothing you could have done." It got him a single, breathless laughter. A bitter one. "Ro... you've done more than anyone has ever done for me. So stop blaming yourself. Okay?" Roman breathed a sigh. "_Okay_?" Dean repeated, burying his hand in the black mane to give it a gentle tug.

"Yeah... yeah, okay..."

"Good, 'cause, you know, I'm not good at this comforting people shit, man," he mock-huffed, letting go of the long hair that was like silk between his fingers as the darks strands slipped through them.

It was a pleasant feeling, one that itched the urge to touch it again and the thing was that Roman probably wouldn't have had a problem with him just doing that because although Roman didn't push him and left him room, it seemed that there was somehow no _distance_ left. Or rather Roman was willingly giving any distance up. Superman was standing there with his arms wide open, waiting patiently.

Too good for this world fool. Bordering on a bloody idiot. Taking so much shit...

His hand dropped to the mattress, nails scratching lightly over the sheets in nervous trails while Roman reached out for the clothes, but he faltered in his movement and instead of taking the clothes, a hand was settled on Dean's busy one, staying there until it stilled under the big palm.

"Mom has brought you one of my track suits. It'll probably look a bit baggy on you," Roman said as he took his hand away. "Wanna throw it on?"

No question, sitting here in only under underwear with all the black and blue art on his body wasn't what made him feel comfortable. Not that he needed to hide it anymore, right? It was okay now that people saw it and asked questions, because he wasn't alone with this anymore and every question was a lock more to the cage they would hopefully jail that goddamn, fucking son of a bitch in. Still...

"Yeah," he murmured.

Putting the track suit on turned out to be not that easy because moving fucking hurt like bitch even if it wasn't a sweater but a hoody jacket and they hadn't finished the task yet as the door opened and Roman's dad and the doctor came walking in. The following minutes rained down on Dean like too wet rain, soaking him and leaving him feel uncomfortable. Touching, prodding, asking questions, gazes and instructions. The few minutes seemed like a little eternity to him because all he wanted was to get out of here. _Away_.

And then... the doc gave his okay and left.

"I talked to the police if it's okay to get your stuff," Roman's dad explained. "They said that they're done with collecting evidence in there, so if you feel up to, we can stop by and get your things."

"I..." Dean mumbled, trailing off though, averting his gaze.

Going there? Now?

"We don't have to," Roman added hushed. "If you rather want to go another day then..."

Shaking his head no, Dean replied: "No... no, let's go there. It's okay."

_... I think..._

Going there another day would only delay the moment he could draw a line under all this and he had waited for too long already to do it, draw that fucking line and leave it all behind. Slowly he stood up, coming to stand on slightly unsteady legs but the very moment his feet touched the ground, Roman was right there beside him. An arm was wrapped around his back to steady him, if only for a brief moment, and as he gazed over to him, there was this very expression that told him _I am here_.

_Yeah, you are_, Dean thought as they made their way to the door. _And don't you dare leaving me again..._

X

The air was stale and thick like a wall, the stench that was lying in it too fucking familiar and every fiber in his body bridled at it and screamed to get the bloody hell out of here. Now. _Now_...

"It's okay," he heard Roman murmur right beside him. A touch on the small of his back. Roman's hand. "If you don't want to be in here, then you can wait outside with dad and I'm gonna get your stuff for you."

"I..." Dean began, tempted to just accept the offer and wait outside, surrounded by fresh air instead of bad memories. But no... no. He wasn't a coward, was he? It was just a few minutes of switching the autopilot on and collect a handful of things. No thinking, just doing and then he could walk out of here and never come back. Turning his head just a tad, he looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. Roman... Roman was here with him, like a calm point in the midst of a swirl of nauseating reality. And more than anything else it was this promise, this one thing he'd vowed himself that left him no other chance than doing this now. It was the vow to _walk_ _out_ of this apartment and the life that was none when the day had come that he was free. That day... it was now. "No, I gotta do this," he replied quietly.

With that he limped down the corridor and towards his room with Roman close behind him and he hadn't even reached it as he saw the dark stains on the door frame. His steps were falterting briefly as his brain hit rewind, bringing him back to the night before. And then he was standing in the doorway to his room. He stopped, stood frozen to the spot as he looked round. The few things he called his own were lying scattered all over the room.

Dark streaks were leading from the door frame to the middle of the room, ending in something that looked a little like an oversized inkblot test but he knew that it was his own blood. It was this very moment his brain his the play button but the movie it showed him was blurred. Roman appeared on his side and again he felt his friend's hand on the small of his back, reassuring, whispering to him that nothing would happen to him. Never again.

"I can't remember much after..." Trailing off, he tilted his head a bit to the side, furrowing his brows and squinting his eyes, willing the fuzzy images to become clearer. "I... I called you..." he mumbled.

There was the tinge of a question lying in it because although he was sure that he'd called Roman, the memory felt kind of unreal every time it popped up and all those shreds of images, bits and pieces of what had followed... it all was vague. Things which had happened... or maybe not the way he remembered them. Maybe even which had not happened at all.

"Yeah, you called me. You passed out I think... and on the way to your place I tried to call you awake 'cause the line was still open. But then I heard steps and suddenly the call was ended.

"My stepfather," he growled lowly.

"I tried to call you again but the line was dead."

His eyes wandered the room once more, again over the dark stain on the floor and his few belongings and in between his gaze came to rest upon... the phone. Two steps... and he hunched down, his movements careful and slow and accompanied by groans he stifled because he didn't want to alarm Roman more than necessary. Reaching out, he picked the small device up and looked at it in silence. It was cracked... as if someone had stepped on it, had scrunched it under his feet. But actually there was no _as if_ because it was exactly what had happened, wasn't it? The fucking bastard had done it to make sure he couldn't call help. I made him wonder if his stepfather had even realized that he had been too late with his attempt to prevent this.

"And then?" he wanted to know, his voice wearing a faraway tinge.

Quiet steps and then Roman hunched down beside him. Close. Close enough that their shoulders bumped a little and it was okay, that contact, it was good because it did what every of Roman't touches did. It was telling him _I am here_. Involuntary he leaned into the contact.

"The officers told him that they want to talk to you," Roman explained, the low voice tense. "He said that you're not at home but I knew that he was lying. I, uhm... I kicked the door open..."

"You did what?" Dean snorted softly, gazing over to Roman.

The image of Roman doing that brought a small smile to his lips and the idea that this man didn't hesitate getting in so much trouble for him and... and even risked to get bodily harmed.

Big menacing Superman...

"He wanted to close the door. I couldn't... I had to get in here somehow and so I kicked the door open, shoved him out of the way and..."

Roman trailed off but Dean knew what was left unsaid.

And then I found you.

It was written there on the handsome face, in the shadow that cast over the grey eyes and in the way his friend clenched his hands to fists. What Roman had just said... it brought the washy memory of voices up and in between there was Roman's voice and Dean faintly remembered that he had wanted to call out for him... and pain as he'd fought to get to the door...

"Ro?"

Brows furrowed. Lips were pressed to a thin line briefly.

"Let's talk about it at home, okay?" Roman asked quietly, meeting his gaze with an expression that made Dean question if he really wanted to hear it.

"Okay," he replied, straightening up again.

The hiss that crept past his lips at the pain that jolted through him was out before he could bite it back. The bastard had done a neat job and maybe it was a good thing that he couldn't remember much after the first blows.

Arms closed around his upper body, carefully helping him up and Dean curled an arm around his friend's neck, partly for added support and partly because he wanted to. Just a bit of closeness now, just one moment because... just because. There was no need for a reason, was there? Roman was here with him and having him close felt good and he was allowed to do this, to hold on to his friend. That was reason enough.

And maybe, just maybe there was a part of him that wanted to yell: See, fucking asshole? This is Roman and you can't take him away from me!

But the very moment he was standing upright again, a sharp pain blazed up in his left side, causing his knees to buckle a bit but the arms around him held him safe.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face against Roman's shoulder. "Fucking shit..."

"Where does it hurt?" he heard his friend ask worried.

"What do you think, Reigns? I'm a fucking ball of pain!" he snapped and regretted it immediately because it wasn't Roman's fault, all this and he was here, helping him and he didn't deserve to be snapped at. He didn't even know where the biting reply had come from. Besides he knew what Roman had meant. "Sorry, Ro, I didn't mean to..."

"I know," came the quiet reply, not reproachful but understanding.

Too good for this world fool...

Once more he wondered what it would take to make Roman being mad at him but to be honest, he hoped he wouldn't find out. Ever.

"Kidney," he gritted out while the stinging pain lasted.

The hold on him shifted a bit, becoming even more gentle if possible and wasn't there a thumb brushing back and forth on his back? Soothing... And he allowed himself to drop into this embrace and be weak for a moment, because this was the kind of weakness that was born out of being exhausted and hurting and there was nothing bad about not being strong for once. He'd been _strong_ long enough, no matter if he'd been having the strength to or not. There was a lot he had to catch up on... because one needed to be weak every once in a while to always be strong.

But it was something else that dimmed the pain. It was the way Roman turned his face into the crook of his neck this very moment while one of his hands moved down to the sore area, just resting there in a light touch.

His name was whispered against his neck... creating a weird tingling in his chest, causing his heart to tick in a rhythm that it wasn't supposed to. Again.

_What is just happening here...?_

It was what Dean was asking himself and there was still a quiet voice left in him that kept telling him not to let this happen... to let _Roman_ happen... and to step out of this embrace but he didn't. It wasn't the first time he felt this, wasn't it, like during their little game of basketball... when they had ended up lying on the ground with Roman on top of him, so close and... and also last night, back in Roman's room and maybe that voice was right, maybe he should not let Roman happen as more than a friend... or else he would end up being disappointed. Roman had given him so much already, more than he would have expected that someone would give him, ever.

He was misinterpreting this anyway, wasn't he? Roman had a tactile nature, not only with him but also with Seth and there was nothing else behind it but friendship.

Friend. Friend. _Friend._

"Dean?" Roman said lowly.

He didn't only hear him say it, he also felt the rumbling voice. He fucking _felt_ it, felt it tug a chord in him that made this goddamn tingling brighter and wasn't it a fucking joke that he was standing here now, thinking, feeling this? This all? Out of all places and moments?

Maybe allowing himself to be weak hadn't been a good idea...

"It's better," he mumbled, pulling back without meeting those grey eyes which gazed at him inquiringly.

He knew it because he could fucking feel it, the question lying in it and worry and compassion and... soemthing else. Heavy and almost graspable but without a bloody name to call it.

_Get a grip, Ambrose, you're just all mixed up, _he chided himself.

He got a reluctant _okay_ while he made his way over to his backpack that was lying on the ground and after a moment of hesitation he began to pack his school stuff that was scattered over the floor into it, biting back the pain as he bent down. He still held the cracked phone in his hand. Somehow he couldn't put it aside...

"Got a bag for your clothes?"

"Duffel bag. Under the bed," he replied quietly, seeing Roman fish for the bag and begin to collect the clothes which were lying all around.

So often he'd done what they were doing now, packing his few belongings to leave this apartment for good, but all his attempts before had ended with him landing here again. Rustling in the background told him that Roman was busy putting the clothes into the bag and when he turned around a moment later, he found his friend already done and waiting for him.

"What else?" Roman asked, taking a look around.

A grim smile tugged at Dean's lips.

"My tooth brush."

A second or two of silence.

Then: "You're serious."

"Sure I'm serious. What did you expect?"

"I... don't know," Roman muttered, stepping up to him. Taking the backpack from Dean's hand to throw it over his shoulder he added: "At least a book or something like that."

"He sold everything he got his hands on except for the TV," Dean explained indifferently because it had been something he'd long come to terms with.

Whatever he had called his own, as soon as his stepfather had gotten the chance, it had been sold. Even if it had been a fucking book that had brought in only a buck or two. He saw that Roman wanted to say something, probably not knowing what to say at all to this though. Patting the broad chest friendly, he began to make his way to the bathroom to get the tooth brush and in a way the tiny item was another part of the step to draw a line under his old life, as silly as it sounded. Roman was waiting in the corridor as he came back out again, holding the bag open so he could put it in.

"The phone?" Roman asked, frowning lightly while pointing at the small device that Dean still held in his hand.

"Wanna keep it."

"But it's..."

"I just, uh..." He couldn't leave it here. He also couldn't throw it away because if this phone hadn't been, then... "I just wanna keep it, you know?"

Roman frowned a bit deeper briefly, before nodding.

"Okay then, let's go home, Han Solo."

Home_._ The word was fleeting over him like a soft breeze.

"Home..." Dean breathed.

It tasted good on his tongue, new and rich and addictive. _Home_. Something he'd never really had. Fucking bastard had taken the bit of home he'd had as a kid away from him. Even if he wouldn't be allowed to stay with Roman and his parents very long, it'd still be more home than he would ever have hoped to have. Fuck, this one evening with them had already been more home than he'd ever been allowed to have. An arm was slung around his shoulder, the touch mindful of his sore one as they walked along the corridor but when they reached the front door, Dean stopped and turned back, letting his eyes roam one last time.

For a second he wished his stepfather would be here now so could spit in his face... but in a way the bastard was here, wasn't he? It was his apartment, it smelled like him, stale beer and cigarettes, and all that was left in here belonged to this man.

Straightening up a bit more, Dean spat to the floor and growled then: "Game over, motherfucker. You lost."

Turning his back on the apartment, he let Roman steer him out of the building where the afternoon sun was shining brightly and the air was alive and there at the car daddy Reigns was waiting for them with a warm smile on his face. He met them half-way, taking the bag from his son and placing a hand on the back of Dean's neck in a unfamiliar fatherly way while gazing at him scrutinizingly.

"You okay, son?"

He'd always known that words could be powerful and this one word now, it was _strong_. He knew that just like _junior_ it was only a way to call a younger man but still...

"Yeah," he said just above a whisper.

He watched the older man nod, felt the hand on his neck vanish as daddy Reigns made his way over to the trunk and then he felt Roman's hand on the small of his back again, gently pulling him along to the car.

X

Quietness had settled over the house and the outside world had fallen dark a while ago. Dean was sitting on... on his new bed... his _own_ bed, at least for now, propped up on a bunch of pillows against the headboard, his knees drawn up and with his hands resting in his lap while his eyes were fixed on the dim lights of the neighborhood. The light in his room was switched off. He didn't want to alarm anyone in here, didn't want them to worry, just as he didn't want to having them asking question he couldn't give an answer to... like what was bothering him. He would tread on their toes if he answered that and it was the last thing he wanted. Besides it was more peaceful like this anyway

It was late, past midnight already and he should probably have been trying to sleep but although he was dog tired and exhausted to the bones, he simply couldn't find the point to just lie down and close his eyes. The aftermath of the events left him unable to come down and there was also a bad feeling lingering in his guts. What if he closed his eyes now, being here in cookie-land and the next time he opened them again, he was back in that hell hole? Silly enough he'd already thought about pinching himself to make sure he was awake, yet he hadn't done it. Again, what if he woke up and he _wasn't_ here...?

And actually it wasn't only the aftermath of the events... it was also the here and now. In a good way though but what had happened after they had come here... it was _too much_ almost. No, not almost. It _was_ too much for him to handle it. Mommy and daddy Reigns and this house, this room. It all was raining down on him and yes, although they were trying to give him his new life in small doses, it still was too much. With a sigh he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Why was it so goddamn hard to let go and allow himself to just drop into this? Here it was again... when had the idea of receiving any kind of affection and kindness become more frightening than the thought of getting a beating? He had crossed that line with Roman but now he had come to that point with Roman's parents...

_Surreal. It was how it felt to him as he stepped into the house because not even twenty-four hours ago he had wished he could stay here and now...? Roman's dad had vanished upstairs with the duffel bag and the backpack. _

_Roman was standing beside Dean and it resumed its place, that hand on his lower back, reassuring and soothing and encouraging. The sweet scent of cookies was lying in the air and busy sounds were coming from the kitchen. It was warm in here and it wasn't the warmth the reigning summer brought along... but _warmth_. The kind of warmth only a loving family could create._

_"Welcome home," he heard Roman say, heard the smile that was lying in it._

_He gazed over to him, wanting to see that smile and the moment their eyes locked it was there, sparkling in the grey eyes and it became even brighter. There was the sound of steps coming closer and a light voice, greeting them. Roman's mom. A hand on his shoulder before he could look over and not even a blink later a gentle hold engulfed him as mommy Reigns closed her arms around him in a careful embrace and for a moment he was too stunned to react. _

_"Let the kid breathe."_

_Daddy Reigns. Stepping up to them. When had he come back down? _

_"Good to have you here, Dean," she said hushed as she drew back then, cupping his sore cheek. And suddenly he felt... cornered... and the urge to get away from this and only Roman's hand stopped him from backing out. "Are you hungry?"_

_Willing his breathing to stay calm, Dean replied: "I... no, thanks..."_

_"Maybe some lemonde and cookies? You liked them, didn't you?"_

_"Patricia, give him a few minutes," daddy Reigns murmured. "He hasn't even really arrived here."_

_"I'm sorry but it's just... you scared us, Dean," she explained, her hand dropping to take hold of Dean's briefly before she stepped back._

_A motherly yet also a bit sad smile formed on mommy Reigns' lips and somehow it left Dean feeling as if he needed to apologize to her for causing her worries._

_"I'm sorry, ma'am," he mumbled._

_"Oh, no-no, you don't have to apologize," she said, obviously holding back not to touch him again. "Do you need anything?"_

_"He's tired, mom," Roman cut in. The hand on the small of Dean's back left, only to close around one of his hands to gently pull him along as Roman added: "Come on, I'm gonna show you your room."_

_He followed Roman silently up the stairs and with every step the irrational urge in him to get away from here quietened as he was led to a room that was catty-cornered from Roman's. Only then the other man gave his hand free. Dean looked around, blinking slowly._

_"Sorry, I know she can be pretty, well, overwhelming," Roman apologized. "But she was really shocked about what has happened and worried about you and she's just glad that you're here now and as okay as you can be under the circumstances."_

_He heard it... yet his mind was too occupied with processing other things. Glued to the spot he could only gaze around, his eyes wandering over a big closet and a bed equally big as Roman's, over a desk and a TV. It was clean and tidy, everything looking so new and untouched. The room was much bigger than his old one was. Once, twice and a third time he looked around. His heart did something funny in his chest, tripping over itself and tumbling into jumping happily. His room. This was... it was his own room now? Eventually he was able to move again and slowly he walked over to the bed and sat down on it, his hands smoothing back and forth over the duvet for a second or two, before he curled his fingers into the fabric. Soft. It was... so damn soft..._

_"Dean?"_

_"This is my room?" he assured himself that he had understood this right._

_"Yeah, this is your room now," Roman confirmed while coming over to him. The mattress dipped a bit as the he sat down close beside Dean, causing their shoulders and knees to bump. "Why? Something not okay with it?"_

_He couldn't stop the laughter from crawling up his throat and his attempt to stifle it made it pass his lips as a twisted little sound. This room? Not okay? The fuck..._

_"It's too fucking okay, Ro," he said just above a whisper then. "It's... I..."_

_"It is not. Yes, I know you're used to..." Roman trailed off and sighed. Then: "This is the basic version of a room. You'll need a computer and if you want books, DVDs or whatever, then just say a word."_

_Just say a word... huh... _

_"I uh, I can't... it's just not okay," he mumbled, shaking his head no while bowing it a little as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees._

_Absentmindedly he began to pluck at the sleeve of the hoody jacket while his eyes fixed on the floor. How should he ever repay that? From having less than zero to having more than a hundred percent in less than one day was... it was too much. Again the mattress bounced, this time because Roman stood up to kneel in front of him and with a hushing sound he put a hand on Dean's, stopping the nervous plucking. Automatically Dean began to gnaw at his bottom lip but stopped immediately at the sharp sting as it jarred the cuts._

_"Will you stop that? You're thinking too much," Roman sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It is okay to just accept good things sometimes, you know? My parents wouldn't have done this if they didn't really want it and believe me when I tell you that they see you as a part of this family now. You can rob the fridge in the middle of the night if you're hungry and it's okay. You can go down and let mom talk your ear off or philosophize with dad about the beauty of spark plugs and _it's okay_."_

_Dean looked up and was met by slighty widened eyes and raised brows that created a cute puppy expression on Roman's face._

_"The beauty of spark plugs?" he snorted.  
><em>

_"Yeah, well, dunno what kind of talks you car freaks do," Roman shrugged. _

_And then Dean nodded. Not because he actually really was ready to accept what had been said, but to stop the mood from dropping further when there was no real reason for a bad mood. His good shoulder began to twitch a little in some kind of a displacement activity and immediately Roman put his free hand there._

_"I uh, I just need some time, you know, to get used to this."_

_"I know," Roman murmured. "Actually I'm a bit surprised that you cope so well with all the attention and people crowding you and... well, what happened yesterday was..." Briefly his friend fell silent, obviously trying to come up with the right words. "I wouldn't have been able to tough it out like you do." It seemed that he wasn't really happy with his choice of words though. "What I want to say is... you have all the time you need. Okay?"_

_Dean nodded again and mumbled an _okay_. What lay on his tongue though, unspoken because this moment wasn't the right one, was that he had never really toughed it out... but endured it. Having a thick skin, living with something wasn't the same as getting over it. Bad things that last long dig and dig until they become deeply rooted. Like fucking weeds... and even if you refused to admit it, ignored it, thought that everything was okay, it was still there. In a way those things _never_ became a thing of the past, somehow always being present, even if it was only an uneasiness if someone simply touched you._

_Leave it to Roman to smell that something was going on and Dean could already see the question form in his friend's eyes. It was a knock at the door that saved him. Quickly gazing over to the door, he sat up straight and winced as his side stung.  
><em>

_"Your mom needs a hand in the kitchen, junior," daddy Reigns addressed his son while coming over to the bed._

_It didn't go unnoticed by Dean that somehow Roman was reluctant about leaving him alone now and so he nodded softly. _

_"You heard your dad. Go help your mom, Ro."_

_Still reluctant Roman straightened up, his fingers sliding through Dean's hair before vanishing and the featherlight touch as the fingerstips travelled over his scalp in the process sent a pleasant shiver down his spine._

_"Okay. Will be back in a few," he heard him murmur, before watching him leave the room._

_The moment Roman was gone... Dean resumed the nervous plucking at the sleeve of his jacket and he couldn't help it although he knew that this man wasn't going to do anything bad to him. He glanced at the older man but they had barely made eye contact as his gaze dropped back to the floor. And Dean felt so damn impolite for not even looking the man straight in the eyes but again... he couldn't help it._

_From the corner of his eye he noticed him walking over to the bed, standing there for a moment in which he put a friendly hand on Dean's good shoulder, just letting it rest there briefly. _

_"I know it's been a lot for you, today," the older man began, sitting down on the bed, too, with a bit of distance between them. "You know, my wife was very upset about the incident and it's her way to compensate it." A tiny smile crept over Dean's lips. Well, now he knew from whom Roman had his overly tactile nature. "And you'll probably have to eat a ton of cookies in the next days 'cause she's a stress baker."  
><em>

_"Huh, could be worse I guess," Dean grinned._

_"Yeah, could be. Good thing she's good at baking, too," daddy Reigns smiled back._

_Fuck yes, she was. The shining goddess of triple choc cookies actually._

_"Dean, take your time, okay? If you feel up to coming down to us and chat, just do that but if you rather want to rest or be on your own, that's okay, you know? We'll be having dinner in about two hours, so if you want, then join us. But nobody will take it wrong if you stay up here," daddy Reigns explained. "Roman will stay at home from school tomorrow and I'll go to your school and settle a few things. In a few days you'll have to give evidence at the police though but for now all you need to do is feel good and get well."_

_"Thank you, sir," Dean mumbled, at a loss what else to reply. His head was spinning and he felt torn between being happy and feeling bad because these people were doing all this for him. _

_"Okay, son, I'll leave you alone now. If you need something, just say a word, no matter what it is, okay?" daddy Reigns added as he stood up. _

_A hand was laid on his good shoulder again. A gentle squeeze. And then the older man walked towards the door._

_"Mister Reigns?" Dean called quietly. There was a question lying on his tongue, one that not necessarily had to be asked now but he needed to know. _

_"Yes?"_

_"How long... uhm... how long can I stay here?" _

_For the first time since Roman's father had come in here Dean looked, really looked at the man and found himself greeted by the picture perfect image of how a father should look, shining with trustworthiness and a fatherly warmth and things Dean didn't even have words for._

_"As long as you need to build your own life."_

_"I... I'll never be able to make up to you for all you're doing for me..."_

_"That's understood."_

_"No it's not, I..."_

_"For us it is. Don't worry too much about it. And Dean? Since you're a part of our family now, call me Sika, okay?"_

_Dean nodded and whispered a _thank you_. A smile was the answer. A moment later he was alone in his new room, surrounded by a quietness that was spiced with faint sounds and scents of a world that not even one day ago had seemed so far away and now he was right in the middle of it. Carefully he moved to lie on the comfy bed and closed his eyes to float a bit in this quietness and give his spinning mind a break...  
><em>

When he'd woken up a while later, he'd found a bowl of still warm cookies on the bedside table and... Roman. Roman had been sitting on the floor with his arms crossed on the mattress and his head resting on them in an awkward angle, snoring softly. There had been no reaction when Dean had called him quietly. But Roman had spent the whole night sitting with him in the hospital, so it wasn't a wonder that he had sleep to catch up, was it? The black mane had been pooling over his shoulders, partly over his face, too, veiling it. Roman hadn't even stirred as Dean reached out to gently wipe a few strands out of the peaceful face. It wasn't often that he got a glimpse on Roman without the other man noticing it and he allowed himself to just gaze at him for a while, for once not trying to figure out what made him tick but to just _see_ him. That was until Roman woke up eventually.

Roman wasn't _pretty_. Seth was pretty, yeah, but Roman was the classic example of being handsome and what drew Dean in most were his eyes and his lips. Kissable lips. Soft lips most likely. Well, at least they _looked_ soft. And then there was this body. Greek God, right? And Superman. His skin looked so nicely soft, too, and the caramel teint made it look even nicer. And on top of it all there was the man who was wrapped up in this body and...

With a grunt Dean shook his head a little to stop this train of thoughts before it would take a rail that led to a place that was too dangerous to go. It just wasn't good to go there, not now, not yet. Maybe never.

Reaching up, he gingerly felt the battered side of his face, the swelling there and the rough texture of the scab were his skin had been busted open under the impact of the punches. He hadn't taken a look in the mirror ever since he'd woken up at the hospital, had avoided to even glance into the major direction of reflecting surfaces. He felt the damage and this time it was enough to know, at least for today. With a tiny sigh he let his hand sink back down to his lap. He had to admit that knowing that Roman was sleeping in his own bed peacefully, there just across corridor, made him feel a bit lonely over here, being on his own.

The sound of the door to his room being pushed open a bit more whispered through the darkness and although it was barely audible, he heard it, followed by the sound of naked feet on laminate which ended at the bed. For a moment... nothing. Then a quiet rustling. The mattress bounced a little and dipped under extra weight. Shoulder against shoulder, only a light touch. Soft hair, tickling his bare skin where it brushed over it. And warmth.

Dean's nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, inhaling... Superman...

* * *

><p>AN: So... Dean has come home :) and we still have a handful of chapters lying ahead. I'll give you a tiny spoiler here if it's a spoiler at all: the next chapter will start out with us being guest in Dean's head again, but then we'll visit Roman.<p>

**However... you guys got some words for me?**


	8. Rain

Humpdaaaay and here we are again.

Not much to say but ❤ ～(＾∀＾) ～ ❤ for all you lovely souls out there! Thanks for so much feedback candy becauuuuuse it always makes my day to hear from you XD *smooch*

So, off now, the boys are waiting! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>- <span><strong>Dean<strong> -

It reached deep, this scent that had become so familiar so soon and it touched him in places he hadn't even known were there in him. Places which had been revealed by Roman's unceasing peeling those thick layers of self-protection off which Dean had built over those long years, this stubborn and unweary digging deeper and deeper to find what had been lying safely sheltered by all those walls and fences and doors in him.

It was that magic touch of the night, wasn't it, that brought out things which were hiding away in the daylight, making them look either better or worse. The night made you _feel_ and it gave feelings, emotions so much more power.

And right now it did things to Dean... because he was so very aware of Roman... his warmth, his scent, the sound of his breathing, of _everything_... and he was sure that if he only listened close enough, then he could even hear the beating Roman's heart... and it all, it kept touching those places within him with soft finger, tugged at chords which sent a humming through him that seeped into the air between them.

The darkness of the night put a veil over things which weren't supposed to be seen in the light, that's why they came out when the darkness settled over the world.

But Roman... he was one of those souls who didn't only just look. Roman _saw_ and... huh... Dean couldn't put it in words. Roman seemed to just feel things. He _knew_. Fact was that this man had seen a lot of ugly sides of him and he hadn't left, had pulled him closer instead.

Fuck, his head was spinning, badly. So much that it left him feeling dizzy. He really needed a fucking break. And his mind _took_ a break from racing this very moment, got distracted by a soft movement at his side as Roman mirrored the way he was sitting and... and at a featherlight touch on his bare arm. Fingers. Tender, testing, feeling around a little.

... warm... the touch was warm... as was the shoulder against his own...

And ever so slightly he shifted his weight towards the massive body beside him for a bit more contact and added warmth that radiated off of Roman. The man was a living heater. An unseen tiny and crooked smile tugged at Dean's lips as he briefly thought about how good it would feel to have Roman lying under the same blanket in cold nights.

The smile dropped. Again the wrong rail his thoughts were heading towards.

The fingers were replaced by a palm but only briefly before the hand vanished completely.

"That a dark secret of yours?" he murmured, not opening his eyes though. "Groping people in their sleep?"

"Now, you're not sleeping, are you? But you should be," Roman replied, not playing along. "And you feel cold."

"Am not cold."

Another sigh reached his ears.

"Well, but your skin feels cold."

Dean shrugged and rolled his head against the wall, turning his face towards Roman and as he opened his eyes, he found his friend staring at the opposite wall but definitely once more concerned. Even in the almost darkness it was clearly written there.

Teddy bear.

"Shouldn't _you_ be sleeping, too?" he asked, frowning in question.

A subtle change was visible in the expression that clung to Roman's face. Although still concerned, there was something else mingling into it but Dean couldn't put a finger on what it was.

"Couldn't. You were thinking too loud," Roman muttered, now meeting his gaze.

Silver. Mesmerizing how Roman's eyes seemed to be liquid silver in the pale and oh so faint light that was flowing into the room from the outside world.

"Yeah, my bloody head just won't give me a fucking break," he admitted quietly, even if right now it was pretty quiet in his head compared to those past hours.

"Headache?"

And it was back, that pure concern, like a switch being flippen. It really made him wonder if Roman had some kind of a piggy bank where he saved worry in to always have some at hand.

Trying himself on a smile, he answered: "Nah, just, you know, thinking and stuff."

"See? I've been hearing right. You're thinking too loud, Captain Solo. And too much."

True. Both. Only that there was no bloody stop button he could push. He didn't comment that though, only looked at Roman who held his gaze. His mind was still busy, he could feel the current in the background, but for now it had quietened... ever since Roman was sitting here at his side. How could it be that this man could so magically make him feel at ease? Not even three weeks and Roman had completely wormed his way into Dean's life and his hea...

He managed to stop this thought in the very last moment. Wrong rail. _Fucking wrong rail here..._

Something shifted in the liquid silver orbs, brows furrowing over them before Roman averted his gaze and turned his head away, dipping it forward a little. A few strands of hair fell down as he did that, concealing the handsome face.

"It scared the shit out of me." The usually full voice was somehow breathless as Roman spoke and very-very quiet, yet as it wrapped around the words that left Roman's lips, it wound around a chord in Dean that had been lying untouched between all those Roman had already struck and the feeling it caused, that strange thingy that was making him feel as good as it scared him, it crawled up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "There was so much blood and... you were barely concious..." Briefly Roman fell silent, took a shuddering breath Dean could not only hear but also feel. This was what Roman hadn't wanted to talk about in the apartment and now that he did say it, Dean really wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. But maybe it needed to be said... "I went in there and you... your hands were bloody and your face... from the cut and... fuck... _fuck_..."

He watched as Roman brushed his hands through his face and dipped his head back against the wall, his gaze fixing on the ceiling.

A faint memory crawled up, broke through the surface and got clearer...

"You've been holding me..." he whispered a bit absentmindedly.

The memory brought the faint feeling of arms around him along. Roman's arms. And his voice, telling him to hang on and...

_... I've got you... stay with me..._

"You passed out," Roman added, his hands dropping to the mattress, fingers digging into the sheets while his eyes closed briefly. "You know, for a moment I thought that you're not breathing anymore." Grey eyes met his own again. Sadness was there but also relief. "Don't scare me like that again. Okay?"

He wanted to lean over and put his arms around him. It wouldn't be a big deal to do that, right? Right. He could do it and give some of the comfort back he'd been given by this man.

"Will do my best," he said instead.

_Coward._

Keep a certain distance... pull him closer... why was it so goddamn hard to just keep walking on one path instead of stumbling back and forth without making up his mind what he wanted?

"While I've been sitting at your bed, I've wished I would have broken every single of his bones," he heard him hiss.

Even though Roman was the type of guy who didn't back down from a fight, the image of him doing _that_ just wasn't really him.

"No. That's not you, Ro," he murmured.

His hand slipped down from his lap and in the little space between them it came to lie on Roman's. Not a hug, no, but this was more than nothing at all.

"In this case I would have made an exception."

Gravely serious. And Dean couldn't help but imagine the scenario and he didn't even try to stop the grim satisfaction that rose in him. But as soon as it was there it was gone again as another thought invaded his mind. Roman could have gotten hurt. Seriously so. It stained the good feeling, the knowledge that there was someone who was willed to risk so much for him brought along.

"It's not worth it that you get yourself in trouble or hurt or shit."

A soft gleam appeared it those mesmerizing eyes, calling him to come closer.

"You are worth all of this and more, Dean. So much more."

A tingling lit up in his chest and hadn't he felt this before already? The hand under his own was being moved a wee bit, just enough that his own slipped to the mattress and it came to lie palm to palm with Roman's. Fingers were spread and his own slipped between them a little, causing that tingling to chase as a shiver through him that was followed by a wave of goosebumps.

Roman was doing it again within only a few hours but sure he wasn't doing it on purpose to leave him weak because of doing and saying things like this now... right?

... tick... tick... tick...

_What is it, Ro? What the hell makes you tick? What makes you doing all this? And why me?_

Swallowing hard, he fought with himself to ask it. He'd asked Roman once before, that one time when he'd been waiting for him at the car, but the answer he'd gotten wasn't enough.

"Why, Ro?" he asked just above a whisper. "All this?"

The softness in Roman's eyes got even softer if possible and with it a smile graced those kissable lips as Roman replied: "Because I like you, Dean. Much. Have from the very first moment on."

The same answer as the last time. Dean puffed a tiny, unbelieving laughter because it just wouldn't go into his head.

"You knew _nothing_ about me..."

The smile on Roman's lips faded, leaving a softness in its wake that matched his eyes and something else that was deeper, richer and without a name.

"Sometimes you see someone and you know that this very person is worth everything and I'm not gonna question it, because it feels right the way it is."

Dean knew he should say something, anything, even if it was only a _thank you_ but this... it wiped his mind blank of any ability to speak. What Roman had just said pierced neatly into his heart and took residence there, causing it to stumble hard in his chest and before he could manage to get his damn mouth to work, he watched the softness dim and felt Roman pull his hand away.

"Okay, uhm... you should try to catch some sleep now," Roman mumbled as he got up and out of the bed and suddenly Dean's side felt _too fucking cold_.

_Don't..._ Dean thought, willing Roman to understand without words. _Don't go._ Hesitation was lying in Roman's movements as he got up from the bed, reluctance as he walked towards the door and it seemed as if the other man didn't really want to go. _Then don't. Just stay._

Roman paused at the door, not turning around to him. He did turn his head a little though as if he wanted to say something. But no words were spoken. And then he left the room, leaving a torn Dean behind. The reluctance Roman had shown... maybe he'd rather stayed here, yet he had also shown often enough that although he kept inching deeper and deeper into Dean's personal bubble, that he tried not to push Dean too much. It was why he was retreating now, wasn't it, probably thinking that he'd said too much.

_I don't want to go but I give you room._ It was written in the way Roman had left. And maybe there was also a _call me back_ in there, too.

His eyes fixed on the black hole of the doorway, Dean blinked into the almost darkness. Thank you for not pushing me and now get the fuck back in here. It stuck in his throat, waiting to be released.

"Ro?" he breathed and no, Roman did not come back in.

Why would he? He was probably already back in his bed.

_Shit..._ Dean thought, lightly knocking his head against the wall while closing his eyes tightly. _Fucking shit...!_

For the second within the last three hours Roman had retreated for Dean's sake... and once again Dean stumbled back and forth between _this is too close_ and _give me more_.

_Fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK!_

May I introduce? Dean Ambrose, pitiable sucker for affection and too much of a coward to really allow it, not to speak of asking for it... or giving it...

For Roman it seemed to be so easy to just do it. Just... like that...

_"Nah... shit... " Dean grumbled at the ache in his side and his shoulder as he wiggled out of the hoodie jacket._

_"Haven't I told you to wait?" Roman sighed as he came walking into the room with a small bottle in his hand. "You're only hurting yourself."_

_It was late already and although Dean had spent the whole time lying on the bed ever since he'd come here, he was feeling dog-tired because he hadn't found much sleep and he would probably spend the whole night with being awake. The white noise in his head refused to give him the needed peace to let go._

_"I uhm, I hope that your parents aren't disappointed or... dunno..." Dean murmured as Roman stepped up to him._

_He hadn't joined the dinner and it made him feel guilty and ungrateful to Roman's parents, even if daddy Reigns had assured him that it would be okay._

_"Don't worry," Roman replied, carefully helping him out of the jacket. "They've told you that it's okay if you rather want to be on your own, haven't they?"_

_The fabric slipped down his arms and he could hear the other man's breath hitch as the black and blue art in his body was uncovered. Hesitation. A sigh. And then Roman rested his forehead against the back of Dean's skull while his hands settled on Dean's sides. Warm fleeted over his neck as another sigh was breathed._

Goosebumps chased all over his body as his mind wandered back to that moment about three hours ago, before they went to bed... in their respective rooms. His hand smoothed over the sheets and to the place where Roman had been sitting a minute ago, his fingers curling into the pillow he found there and although feeling silly for doing it, he hugged it against his chest as he dropped back into that moment.

_The hands on his sides smoothed a bit forward, just a tiny bit as if Roman actually wanted to wrap his arms around him, not daring to do so... and it made his own breath hitch because... _

Don't.

_... it was too much closeness..._

Don't listen to me...

_... and fuck, it wasn't close enough..._

... and just do it...

_But nothing happened and instead of just pulling those arms around himself... Dean curled his fingers to loose fists. His heart was thumping in his chest and somehow breathing wasn't easy. He wanted to step away from this and... fuck, he also wanted to just step back and press up against the broad frame but... no... he was just mixed up and he couldn't... it wasn't right._

_For a few more seconds which seemed to be a little enternity yet were over much too soon, they stayed like this, until Roman drew back eventually. His hands settled back on Dean's body, but this time to spread some ointment on the bruises._

_What the fuck had just happened?_

_"How bad is the pain?" Roman asked quietly, smoothing his hand extra mindful over the area of the bruised kidney and momentarily it stayed there, rubbing soothing circles in a featherlight contact. "Need painkillers?_

_"No, it's okay," he mumbled, not willing to admit that he still was a fucking ball of pain, because it would only worry Roman more than he was already._

_Actually he _wanted_ to feel the pain and thus feel how it would fade, like some kind of a therapy. Another step to draw a line under his past, just like walking out of the apartment had been. _

_Leave it all behind._

_Task accomplished, Roman put the ointment aside and took a step back, his eyes roaming over Dean scrutinizingly as he turned around to face Roman._

_"Need anything else?"_

It feels like I do, but I'm not sure what... _he whispered in his head._

_"No, thanks," Dean mumbled, sitting down on his bed with a sigh._

_Fuck, he was so fucking tired..._

_Hunching down in front of him, Roman brushed a few stubborn strands out of Dean's forehead and graced him with a small smile and Dean had to smile a bit himself, because somehow it seemed as if Roman just couldn't stop touching him._

_"Wake me if you need something, no matter what time it is. Okay?"_

_Big gentle teddy bear mode on._

_"Okay." He watched his friend stand up again, walk over to the door and he was almost out of the room as Dean called quietly: "Ro?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Thank you."_

_Thank you for everything. He had no damn idea where to begin or what to say or how he should ever make it up to Roman for all he had done from that very first moment he'd stepped between him and those assholes back then on the school grounds. Thank you for being Superman and Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Thank you for being the stubborn mule you are and not giving up. Thank you for being this big and gentle teddy bear. _

_Thank you for believing in me. Just... just thank you..._

_A nod. Roman knew._

_"Anytime, Han Solo."_

_And then he was gone._

Slipping deeper, Dean made himself comfortable, savoring the feeling of soft pillows framing his head and the equally soft duvet wrapping around him. He was still hugging the pillow and a faint scent was clinging to it.

_Superman. _

For long minutes he just lay there, willing his eyes to stay closed while sleep refused to come to him, probably scared off by the white noise in his head that was getting louder and louder again. Bloody head. Goddamn, fucking inability to just accept something as good as being here with people who cared and... Fuck... _fuck_! Roman was holding his hand out to him all the time and all he had to do was to stop letting go of it like he was doing permanently. Taking it, letting go. Again and again.

Emotionally stunted coward.

It was am undeniable fact that Roman made him feel at ease and two times already he'd fallen asleep with Superman being around. All it would have taken was to ask Roman to stay when he'd left only minutes ago, but no, instead he'd watched him leave.

Bloody idiot.

"Fuck this shit," he growled as he rolled over and out of the bed, immediately regretting the too quick and thoughtless movement as pain shot through him.

It didn't stop him from going over to Roman's room though, slightly hunched forward to ease the pain a little while still holding the pillow to his chest, more limping than walking actually and he tried, really tried with all he had summon not to think about what he was going to do now or to listen to the nagging voice that told him to go back to his own room. It was okay to do this, there was nothing bad about it. It didn't put the label _weak_ on him or _pitiable_. No one would judge him for doing it.

The door to Roman's room wasn't closed and hesitantly he sneaked into the room, doing his best not to cause any sound as he walked up to the bed and for a long moment Dean only stood there, beholding the image. Roman was lying more or less on his belly, one leg stretched out, the other bent a bit. His head was resting on one arm while the other vanished under the pillow. The black hair was flowing over his shoulders and back, partly veiling his face. The duvet had slipped down to his waist, revealing the broad shoulders which were highlighted by the faint light that was falling through the windows and the silvery shimmer it created made the whole image look like a painting. Roman's breathing was even and soft. A peaceful sight. One that shouldn't be disturbed and now as Dean stood here, he felt silly for wanting to crawl into Roman's bed. He wasn't some five year old child, was he?

But it was tempting...

_Get a grip, Ambrose_, he chided himself, sighing inaudibly and he turned away to head back to his room... as he heard his name being said just above a whisper.

For that one single beat his heart left out he wasn't sure if he'd heard right but he turned back to Roman nevertheless. And his heart missed another beat.

Roman was still lying there on his belly, face half buried in the pillow but Dean could see that he was gazing at him and he watched as Roman lifted the duvet and scooted back a little, creating room... for him...

He moved before he realized that he did, climbing onto the mattress to lie down on this good side, with his back to Roman and thus he couldn't see the expression on his friend's face but he felt the mattress bounce a bit and a warmth that got stronger, telling him that Roman had scooted closer. The duvet was lowered down on him, was tugged up to his shoulders. He stared into the almost darkness, at a loss what to say but maybe... maybe there was no need for words anyway.

There was a light touch at his back as Roman settled his hand between them and that touch stayed. Dean didn't mind. Really. Warm breath flowed over his neck in a steady rhythm, giving him an idea how close Roman was lying behind him and the warmth that radiated off of the massive body engulfed him. Turning his face into the pillow, Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling _Roman_.

Ease... and the white noise in his head... it fell silent...

X

- **Roman** -

_A slight movement against him... a touch on his arm. Weak fingers, twisting in his shirt and the faintest of tremblings was running though the body in his arms._

_"__Ro...?__"_

_A whisper._

_"I'm here, 's okay Dean." He barely managed to keep his voice from shaking. "You're safe now."_

_Blinking back hot tears, he brushed his hand softly over the blond hair while tightening his hold on Dean. Blood. So much blood..._

_"Stay with me, Dean," he mumbled. The already weak hold on his shirt got even weaker and the tension that had been left in Dean was fading. "Don't think about doing something stupid, you hear me?"_

_A breathless moan passed Dean's lips and the trembling which was running through him died away and with it the hold on his shirt. The hand slipped down... and the body in his arms went slack._

_No!_

_He couldn't move, the brief moment agonizingly seeming so long. _

_"Dean?" he called quietly, his voice breaking at the single word and the lack of reaction freed him of the paralysis._

_Shifted his hold on his friend, he sought the gaze of the blue eyes... but the blue was dull and empty._

_"Dean?" he called again, brushing a hand over a bloody cheek. "Come on, open your eyes..."_

_It was now that he realized that Dean... wasn't breathing... he wasn't breathing..._

_"No, no-no, come on, don't do that! D...!"_

"...ean!"

The buzzing in his ears was overwhelming loud as his heavily pounding heart pumped his blood through his veins like a bullet train and for an endlessly moment he couldn't breathe as his chest clenched painfully. He stared wide eyed, his confused brain trying to catch up, fighting to process... that he was sitting in his bed, his fingers buried in the sheets hard enough that his hands hurt. The deep breath he drew as the cold grip around his chest loosened sounded more choked than it was healthy but it brought much needed air into his lungs.

"Fuck..." he whispered, the shiver that ran through him lacing into the words. "_Fuck_..." Unfurling his fingers, he hissed at the pain in them the too hard hold left behind in its wake. "Jesus..."

Brushing his hands through his face, he willed his still running heart to calm down and his breathing to become normal again. A bloody nightmare. It had been a goddamn nightmare. Dean was okay. He was okay...

"Fuuuuck," he mumbled, slightly shaking his head before looking over to Dean. "That's the kind of waking up no one nee..."

Empty. The place beside him was empty. And briefly his heart clenched. It had been a nightmare. Nothing but a fucking nightmare, right?

"I don't need that shit," he breathed relieved as he realized that the place beside him looked ruffled and that there was a pillow lying there that was none of his own.

It _had_ been a nightmare.

Still... Dean wasn't here. He'd been sleeping here the whole night and the last time Roman remembered that he had caught a glimpse on him, it had just been dawning. But maybe he had chosen to retreat to his own room again. His gaze swept over to his alarm clock which was showing a for his taste still too early 8:17 a.m., before it wandered over to the window where he found a rather grey outside world and rain.

Shaking his head once more to clear his still slightly befuddled min, he got out of the bed and padded over to Dean's room. A smile grew on his lips on the way because... just because. Dean was here with them, would be okay now and he couldn't wait to spend the day with him. A nice breakfast, a trip to his father's shop to show him the Chevy and some chilling afterwards. And Seth wanted to come over later today, too.

But Dean's room... was empty. Frowning, Roman made his way to the bathroom. Empty. The frown deepend and to it added a strange feeling that made him return to Dean's room to check if his stuff was still there. It had to be. _Had to_. Dean wouldn't do that, would he? Run away? Opening the closet, relief washed over him as he found Dean's clothes neatly stored away in it.

"Gosh, thank you..." he breathed as he closed the doors again and headed down the stairs to the kitchen which, except for a note from his mother that she was out at the grocery's, was empty.

Dining room. Empty. Living room... empty...

The frown returned to his face as he stood in the middle of the empty living room, listening into the quietness of the house for a hint where Dean could be but all there was... was the steady sound of the rain outside, but it was that sound that drew his attention because it was surprisingly _loud_. The reason was probably the French window that was left ajar. His feet carried him over, not to close it but to see if he was guessing right. And he was.

There on the lawn was Dean, sitting cross-legged with his head dipped back and his eyes closed. His hand were resting in his lap. The rain was falling down on him in thick drops, running down his bare upper body in rich streamlets. Strands of blond locks stuck to his face, framing it. Naked toes were peeking out from under sweat pants clad legs. Cocking his head a bit to the side, Roman watched him for a while, wondering why the hell he was sitting out there but whatever it was... Dean looked freed. A beautiful sight.

The events of the past days still seemed a bit unreal to him. The good things seemed like a nice dream, just like the time between Dean's phone call and that moment when the doc told him that Dean would be okay felt like a nightmare.

Roman couldn't even put in words how relieved he was, how happy that the nightmare was over for Dean, that he was allowed to stay with them and also that he _wanted_ to stay here and be a part of this family. It was hard to hold back though, not to constantly cling to him because Dean was the one who had to set the pace and Roman had to follow.

No pushing, no pulling. Don't put pressure on him.

There had been moments the day before when they had been so very close. Briefly at the hospital and then at the apartment. Or the moment in Dean's room before they went to bed.

Or when he'd sneaked into Dean's room later, finding him still awake... and that kind of holding hands and the mere memory made his fingers itch to hold that hand again.

But then... Dean came to him. Dean was setting the pace, yeah, and he'd done something Roman would never have allowed himself to dream of and joined him to sleep in his bed the whole night, even if it had taken an unspoken _it's okay, so come on and get in here_. Pure trust... Good thing Dean hadn't noticed how hard his heart had been hammering against his chest or him inching so close that he'd almost been spooning Dean and God knew, he wished he simply could have wrapped his arm around this man and hold him tightly.

The night had been quiet snd peaceful with both of them finally finding much needed sleep. There had barely been bodily contact except for his hand touching Dean's back innocently or light touches of shoulder against shoulder while both of them had been lying on their backs. For a bit Dean's leg had been lying hooked over Roman's and Roman had been guiltily enjoying every single second he was granted to be awake to, even more since he knew that the chances that Dean would crawl into his bed again were bad enough. So at least he had those few minutes which no one could take away from him.

Roman stepped out and walked over to his friend who didn't seem to notice the slow approach till he kneeled down beside him, mumbling his name. The blue eyes opened and locked with his own and somehow Dean's eyes looked glassy, slightly reddened as if he'd been crying, but a smile grew on the kissable lips, shaky but there.

"For a moment I thought that you've left," Roman admitted quietly, maybe because he wanted to hear from Dean that _that_ wouldn't happen, ever.

And Dean did him the favor.

"Not gonna happen," Dean promised as quietly, his gaze dropping to his own hands.

Roman's eyes found to Dean's hands, too, saw how his friend scraped his nails over them and the way he did that was kind of absentminded, yet it was obvious that he hadn't just started doing it this very moment. The skin showed slightly red trails were it started to be irritated. Compensation.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked, reaching out to lay one of his hands on Dean's to stop it.

"Feeling free," was the mumbled reply.

Dean did not look up, but he pulled a hand out from under Roman's, covering it and Roman's heart did ridiculous somersaults.

"Come back in. You'll be catching a cold out here."

A soft chuckle.

Then: "It's warm summer rain, Ro. Besides, ya know, rain's nice. I like it."

Dean was right, it wasn't cold out here and if he wanted to sit a little longer, then he wouldn't do it alone. Not taking his hand away, Roman sat down beside his friend. Frowning Dean looked over.

"What are you doing?"

"Gonna sit in the rain for a while," he murmured, bringing his free hand up to Dean's face to wipe a strand of the blond locks out of Dean's forehead.

The frown on the handsome face deepened. The swelling had become a little worse, just like the doc had told them it would. A hematoma had built in the white of Dean's left eye.

"Why?"

Running the tip of his index finger ever so softly over the bruised cheek before he drew it back, he sighed: "Because someone very special told me that rain's nice. Guess I gotta try it then."

Dean swallowed hard, his already shaky smile wavering visible for the briefest of moments before he snorted: "Dude, sometimes I think you'd follow me right away if I'd jump from a bridge."

Roman shook his head no.

"No. I'd be waiting down there to catch you."

The absence of words that followed was filled with the steady sound of the rain and a stunned silence and maybe it hadn't been fair to come out here and say all this to Dean because in a way it put pressure on him, didn't it? This open expressing of affection that Dean wasn't used to. Maybe he should have let him sit alone out here for a while, to think and to process. Their hands were still joined and their gazes locked and Roman could see a current of things going on in the sky blue orbs, those baby blues he'd come to love so very much. He couldn't read all of what he saw there but at least he didn't see rejection or fear lying in them. Confusion was there. Heavy. Uncertainty. The corner of Dean's mouth twitched, as did his right shoulder and the hand under his own and then Dean averted his gaze, turned his face away... but he made no move to draw his hands back.

"Jesus Christ, Reigns, you're such a sap," he heard him laugh.

A weak laughter that was meant to laugh the situation off.

"Been called worse," Roman shrugged, lightly squeezing the hand under his own.

Again Dean's good shoulder twitched and Roman couldn't help but lay his hand on it to stop it. It had worked often enough before and it did work now. The shoulder stilled but he could feel a shiver run through his friend who bowed his head momentarily before looking over to Roman again.

"You forgot your cape again."

Hushed, slightly amused yet serious.

"Cape?" Roman frowned.

Pointing at Roman's chest, Dean replied: "Your red cape. That's what Superman is wearing, isn't it? You always forget to put it on..."

He blinked. Superman? Dean was thinking of him as... Superman? Opening his mouth to say something, he found himself at a loss what to respond to this and now it was him who averted his gaze, swallowing hard at the sweet ache which was blooming in his chest.

"I ain't no Superman," he managed to bring over his lips after a few seconds.

"Fuck, yes, man, you are." From the corner of his eye he noticed Dean lift a hand. An index finger touched Roman's chest, drawing an invisible S on it with a touch that was gingerly and soft, testing. Shy almost. "You are, Ro..."

Dean's voice was even rougher than it was usually and somewhat breathless. The hand dropped to Roman's thigh then, resting there and he sought the baby blues again. Unguarded baby blues, a bit more glassy than they had been only a moment ago and despite the mass of emotions which were fleeting through them, they looked at him with an affection he'd never seen there before, sparkling and breathtaking. And suddenly it was there, a humming that laced into the air between them and it got stronger until he could feel it hum throughout him, sweeping its fingers over his heart and it left a tune in its wake Roman wished he could voice.

_I love you._

"I..." he began, gazing at Dean while stopping those words which took himself by surprise before they could tumble out of his mouth and ruin everything. "... think we should go in. Come on, Captain Solo, let's grab a shower before breakfast," he said instead, ignoring the sad tripping his heart did...

A while later Roman made his way back to he bathroom to check on Dean who was just taking a shower. After sharing the bathroom while brushing their teeth, Roman had left to set the table for breakfast and it still felt somehow surreal that Dean was here, would be every day from now on. A silly but totally happy grin spread on his lips and instead of making a beeline to the bathroom, he stopped by his own room, perched on the mattress on the side of the bed where Dean had been sleeping and neatly sunk his face in the pillow there. A deep breath... and there was the scent of freshly washed linen... and very faint the soap they had used at the hospital to clean Dean's hair from the blood but there was also... Dean. Sandalwood and something that was uniquely Dean.

For a minute he allowed himself to stay like this, before he wrenched himself away from the pretty nice place, regretfully so, to go to the bathroom and actually he expected Dean to be finished but as he reached the door, he heard that the shower was still running. Quietly calling his friend's name, he waited for an answer because he didn't want to simply burst in there, but there was no reaction. He called again. Nothing. Worry glinted in his guts again. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he pondered whether he should go in there and make sure that Dean was okay or if he should respect his friend's privacy and wait until he was done. But... what if Dean _wasn't_ okay...? No, he couldn't risk that. The blows to the head Dean had taken had been massive and what if he'd passed out because of a late effect? Breathing deeply, he nodded to himself and hesitantly opened the door a bit to peek into the room.

Relief quietened the worry but the sadness he tasted on his tongue as he his mind processed what his eyes showed him wiped it away. Dean hadn't noticed him yet and Roman could only stand there frozen, watching him through the slightly misted glass walls of the shower. Dean stood a little hunched forward, holding his left arm close to his body, the fingers of his right hand poising above the bruised cheek while he stared at his own reflection in a big mirror tile. And Roman... watched... and for a few very long minutes they both stayed unmoving, like a still life until finally he couldn't bear it anymore because it hurt him to see Dean like this and he knew that Dean was hurting, too, was trapped in the image the mirror showed him.

Slipping into the room, he closed the door and locked it, just in case him mother would come back any minute, before he walked up to the shower and slowly opened the sliding door a bit, still unnoticed, to reach in and turn the water off. Dean flinched hard and the expression which was lying in those baby blues as their gazes met through the mirror tile was much too sober, piercing right through his very core...

- tbc -

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><p><strong>Got some feedback candy for hungry li'l me?<strong>


	9. Headspace

Okay, guys, this time it's a rather short chapter because I haven't had much time in the past week but a lot of family probs instead. So, sorry. Would have wanted to give you some more of the boys this week.

However, have fun :)

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><p>He shouldn't have looked. He just... he should have tried <em>not<em> to do it but that goddamn mirror tile had practically called him to fucking gaze right at what he didn't want to see. He'd known it wouldn't be a pretty sight because he fucking _felt_ that this time it had been worse than all those times before but... this... He couldn't look away. Wanted to... but couldn't...

Involuntary he held his left arm closer to his body as the throbbing in his sore shoulder got stronger. Slowly he lifted his right hand up to his face, the tips of his fingers hovering just above over the badly bruised left side of his face which looked like... he didn't even have a word for it. He didn't want to think about it too much. Huh, yeah, sure. Not thinking too much...

Although standing under the still running warm water, he felt cold. Uncomfortable. It was a cold which had been rising all of a sudden from somewhere within him, that damn cold he had felt so often already while lying curled up on the ground when he'd been too exhausted to put up a fight against it. Its chill was twisting all the way through to his core, every single time, until that moment would come when the cold felt like warmth. When his body stopped fighting it, gave in and his wailing mind started to feel at home in that cold, wrapped up and secure, while he drifted off and into a peaceful oblivion. This now, it was some kind of an aftermath. Had to be. All those years he had been running and fighting and now it all had stopped. Finally he had found a little piece of a heal and happy world and he had stopped running. But his past was catching up now and he should have known it. It was like he was opening his eyes after years of keeping them screwed shut.

Fighting, always fighting and stubbornly going forward without losing a thought about surrender. Fighting until that day comes when fighting isn't necessary anymore and with it comes the moment when you realize that you've run out of strength a long while ago and the toughing it all out has been sheer will, now taking its toll.

It had been a close call this time because if Roman hadn't shown up... the motherfucker would have returned for a second round. Dean was sure he would have... because he always had. And maybe this time he wouldn't have gotten out of this alive...

_Don't even go there._

But it was too late... something inside him cracked under the cold, something that was worn-out and as battered as his body, something that had taken too much damage over all the years and it flooded him with an anxiety that put freezing fingers around his chest, making it hard to even take the shallowest of breathes.

_Ro._

He wasn't sure if his lips were actually forming the name or not but it was loud in his head, called out to be heard and he tasted it on his tongue in the pathetic wish Roman would be here now and chase it away, this goddamn, fucking cold and smothering anxiety.

_Ro...!_

Desperate almost, this single word as he called out again. Had it passed his lips? Or had it only been in his head? Again he wasn't sure but... did it matter?

The here and now returned to him with a clash as the shower was being turned off, causing him to flinch hard. Blue met grey through the mirror tile and the realization that Roman must have been watching him hit him like a blow. And now that Roman _was_ here, Dean wished he wouldn't be. Not able to break his gaze away, he tried hard to remember how to breathe at all. His heart was suddenly hammering against his chest, stealing the last bit of air away he'd drawn in against the grip of this bloody anxiety.

He couldn't file the expression he found on the other man's face. Grave? What if Roman's name _had_ left his lips? How should he explain? Tell him the truth? That he would have wished that Roman had been here to just wrap those big arms around him and fend the bad things off? No... he couldn't... fucking couldn't...

"Dean?"

Almost a whisper. Warm. A touch on his back, gentle and soothing, always so damn soothing and as he turned around, the hand stayed on his body, sliding over his slick skin only to come to rest on the spot just above his heart. He wanted to step out of the shower. He couldn't. Without doing anything but being there, this hand stopped him. Nothing that Roman did for and to him, neither the physical nor the emotional things, were bad. It all was _good_ but this man managed to unhinge him completely and sometimes all it took was single, innocent touch like this one now. His heart had been hammering before, but now it felt as if it wanted to reach Roman's hand. And Roman felt it, too. Dean could see it from the corner of his eye, the subtle change in the grave expression.

All it would take now was to turn around a little more and lean forward, right into those arms...

Closing his eyes, he drew a stuttering breath and willed his heart to stop this absurd riot it put up. It didn't listen to him though, kept pounding traitorously. Fingers splayed on his chest. He could feel the hair on his arms raise while a funny feeling settled in his belly.

"You okay?"

The low voice was coated thickly with concern once more. He didn't gaze over to Roman as he opened his eyes again and moved to leave the shower, leaving the question unanswered. Roman didn't stop him from walking away but the way his hand slipped off of his body was reluctant enough to tell Dean that he'd rather pulled him in instead of letting him go and just like the night before there was this part of Dean that wished Roman would just do it.

Two steps. Three. Before he stopped, his eyes dropping to the floor without really seeing. The grey eyes were resting on him, their intense gaze digging into him, deep, deeper, trying to read him. Reaching out, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as he suddenly felt too aware of his nakedness.

"Dean? Talk to me."

Soft. Begging.

"I... don't know..." he replied just above a whisper.

It was a lie. Yet it was not. His good shoulder twitched slightly in this bloody kind of displacement activity his body betrayed him with so often in moments he couldn't handle well. He heard Roman move and come closer, heard a soft rustling and then... A bathrobe was draped around him from behind and its hood was pulled over his head, slipping deeper and concealing his face as he dipped his head a bit forward. Roman remained behind him, his hands settling on Dean's shoulders.

"You're trembling."

Well, shit... Roman was right. When the fuck had he started to fucking tremble? Why the hell was he trembling at all? The hands smoothed from his shoulders down to his upper arms, stopping there to gently pull him back against the broad chest and he didn't fight it.

"You've bottled up this shit for a much too long time and you need to stop. It doesn't make you less tough and you're sure not weak if you let it out," Roman murmured. "I'll catch you. You know that I will."

Forever? Would Roman do it till the end of time? Because right now it felt like this back and forth was never going to end and he himself was causing it.

_Huh, you're tearing my walls down and you're ripping every door open without giving me a chance to ever close it again and you're not even sorry, are you? You're leaving me standing naked here to hide in _you_ because you're the only safe place I know, you goddamn bastard._

The cold... it was still there in him. His right shoulder twitched again and this time more noticeable, provoking an immediate reaction from Roman whose hand smoothed to the front of it, pressing it against the broad chest to still it. He'd wanted Roman to wrap him up in his arms, again and again... but again he'd backed out. And now? Staying where he was? Or rather bring some distance between them?

_Make up your fucking mind._

The hood was still hiding his face away from Roman's eyes and he was thankful for it, because there was a burning in his throat... and in his eyes...

_Coward._

But Roman was _here_ and Superman was holding his arms wide open, waiting for him. Waiting to catch him.

_Trust me. I there for you._

And then Dean moved before he really knew that he was doing it, turning around to Roman, his face still veiled by the hood and while an arm was wrapped around his back tenderly, a hand settled on the back of his head to cradle it as he buried his face in the crook of Roman's neck. Bare skin on bare skin as their chests touched. Warmth, seeping into him, flowing into the cold. That familiar scent, filling his nostrils. His own hands finding their way to soft skin, smoothing over it as his arms circled the thick waist in a hold that was tighter than he wanted to admit. But it was exactly how he needed it to be because it was bringing Roman as close as possible. And it was also like anchoring himself.

Tears... tears were escaping his eyes, even as he tried to stop them by screwing his eyes shut, failing poorly. He didn't _want_ to cry. He fucking _hated_ it, hated how his own body betrayed him. The wetness that spilled from his eyes stained the warm skin he was pressing his face against and he could tell the exact moment Roman noticed it. The arm that was wrapped around him held him just a bit tighter, safer, while the hand on the back of his skull slowly pulled the hood off... before Roman turned head a bit. Cheek against cheek and fingers diving into his damp hair.

"Good," Roman whispered, sending a shiver throughout Dean as he felt his friend's lips brush over his cheek just a wee bit. "That's good. That's just all the tension and the strain that needs an outlet. Nothing to be embarrassed about." Another shiver rushed through him as Roman turned his face even more towards Dean and the touch of his lips on Dean's cheek got firmer in something that wasn't a kiss… but something close to it. "I've got you, Dean."

The warmth fused into the cold, kept seeping into him persistently and it fought the chill back. Dean's breath hitched as a silly little tearstained hiccup collided with a bitter-sweet amused chuckle that wanted out despite the situation.

"You... Jesus, you're a goddamn sap, Ro," he half-snorted.

The funny thing about this was that... that his heart was calming down. The cold was gone, replaced by a vivid and Roman-fed warmth.

The next twisted laughter crawled up his throat, wanting out as he involuntary had to think of their conversation in the rain only a handful of minutes ago, it got stuck as a weird itching in his throat. With allowing Roman to stomp into his life with his ridiculously soft teddy paws he'd practically jumped from said bridge and fuck yes, he could see Superman down there on the ground, waiting to catch him.

If you ever want to know who your friends are, be vulnerable. A dangerous thing to do, being vulnerable in front of someone.

Show them that you need something, something you can't repay them for, something basic and human, something people only willingly and unflinchingly give to people they care about. It shows who you can really count on. True friends are family. And family doesn't have to be blood.

Here he was, suddenly having two friends of that quality. And one of them... they both were family but Roman was... there was... he felt Roman _deeper_. In a way it was scary... how Roman had dug his way straight into his very core in no time.

And Roman _slowed him down_. His whole life actually. Had created enough time for Dean to really think of all that had happened, that was happening now and _feel_. Somehow it also made him feel like moving on a strange kind of ice that forced him to slide his body forward so very carefully, without slipping on it with and every movement, every _move_ being exactly _conscious_.

He was _feeling_. Too much sometimes. Sometimes not enough. Like last night...

Roman...

Spending the night in his bed where everything smelled like him, knowing that he is there, only a handbreadth away... huh, and with lifting the duvet and inviting him, Roman had just wiped away any doubt about even considering crawling into bed with him. No feeling silly. Just feeling... calm. He'd started to _want_ Roman in his personal bubble, wanted as much of him as he could get. And _when_ he got all he wanted, he couldn't handle it. Confused was wasn't even fitting how it made him feel. And fuck yes, it _was_ like being on ice.

_What do you want?_

_I don't know._

_What do you feel?_

_I don't _know_. I feel _him_. And it scares me. _

But if he was honest with himself, the mere thought of _not_ feeling Roman scared him more.

_Get a fucking grip on yourself, Ambrose!_

Going from a shocked waking up to a calming holding hands with Roman to the next shock because of realizing that he looked like minced meat to dwelling in an emotional back and forth _again_ because of Roman and why the fuck was his fucking self-control slipping from his fingers like he'd never really had a grip on it?

Fuck being so pathetic and... and...

_Fuck this...! _

Round and round. Back and forth. Over and over again. He needed to stop, really needed to before he lost his way in his own head.

"Okay, think we should change the band-aid on your forehead now," Roman murmured after another few seconds, reluctantly letting go of Dean who, now that he had his arms around the firm body, did _not_ want to let go.

There was a lot going on behind the grey eyes, too, Dean noticed as he caught a glimpse on Roman's face before his friend turned away to walk over to the cabinet. Although things were getting better, they weren't getting easier. Time and patience, huh? With a sigh he walked over to the tub and sat on its rim, watching Roman fetch some stuff from the cabinet before coming over and kneeling down in front of him, lifting a hand to the plaster on Dean's forehead.

Roman's eyes narrowed a little as he tried to peel the plaster off as painless as possible, his brows furrowing and the tip of his tongue peeking out in corner of his mouth... and it drew Dean's attention, caused his eyes to drop to said tongue momentarily. Those lush lips were slightly parted, too.

"Does it hurt?" he heard Roman ask.

Locking gazes again he mumbled: "Wutt?"

"I asked if it hurts. For a moment you looked as if it does."

"I, uhm... no, 's okay," Dean replied, although it actually did hurt a little.

What Roman had noticed had probably only been a facial derailment due to being distracted by that tongue and those lips. A nod from Roman before the fingers went back doing their careful work and eventually the plaster was off. The wince on the other man's face didn't go unnoticed, shouldn't be there although Dean knew that there was no fucking chance that there was a parallel universe in which Roman would _not_ have winced.

Always worried teddy bear. Always caring and always gentle. Always providing a precious little cosmos of good things. Always there...

Dean smiled a little in an attempt to show Roman that everything was okay, openly disregarding the fact that they both knew that it was not okay. Not yet, rather would be eventually. If he wasn't going to get himself killed by thinking too much.

Roman tilted his head a bit to the side, his eyes wandering over Dean's face while a feather light touch trailed down his bruised cheek, just like it had been in the rain. A sigh was breathed, the toothpaste flavored warmth fanning over his face, before Roman resumed his task on his forehead.

Sitting in the warm summer rain had worked purifying, at least for a little while. Even more after waking up with a start and spending a full minute with sitting paralyzed in the bed without really understanding where he actually was, because for that minute his brain tried to convince him that he was still at the old apartment. A not so nice way to wake up after hours of peaceful sleep. In the end it had been his name being mumbled and a knee that bumped against his thigh as Roman bent his leg in his sleep which had shaken him out of the confused inability to move even a finger. He'd spent another full minute of just gazing at a still fast asleep Roman at point-blank range, bracing on his left arm, a fact that his sore shoulder thanked him by hurting like bitch but the moment had been too perfect to let it pass by, while fighting the urge to touch him.

It was still a pretty one sided thing though, the touches. Roman touched him all the time, sometimes more, sometimes less, always mindful of any kind of discomfort he might cause with doing so and it was okay for him, Roman's constant seeking contact. A big step forward given that not even three weeks ago he had avoided any kind of touch or whatever, had shied away from it. And now? Not that he didn't feel that urge to touch him, just like this morning after waking up, yet it still was difficult. Roman was patiently waiting for him to return some of the affection, Dean could see it every time he was the one seeking contact, just like a few minutes ago. Like holding on to him in the apartment and fuck, it still sent a shiver down his spine how Roman had buried his face in the crook of his neck.

And this kind of holding hands. Last night in his bed or in the rain. Yeah, the rain… there the urge had won, had made him draw that S on the broad chest. Had made him lay his hand on the thick thigh. They had been sitting so close and somehow the air between them had been humming with... it, whatever it was and for that moment Dean's poor confused heart had been beating in that strange rhythm again which only Roman caused in him.

Out there while the world had been nothing but a glimpse through the liquid veil that had been falling down on them he'd wished Roman would just have… kissed… him…

Maybe the question wasn't _what_ he wanted but _how_ he wanted_ Roman_.

And maybe the answer to this was more obvious than it was good.

Bloody... damn shit... Wrong rail his mind was going here again. Too late though. This train of thoughts had already come too far here to go back just like that.

His name being said hushed shook him out of his headspace. Hands settling on his face, framing it. A question was written in the features of the handsome face that was framed by a veil of black velvet. Grey. Grey eyes. Close. Beautiful. Kissable lips, parting just a bit.

"Huh…?" he breathed, unable to think straight, too caught up in the sight in front of him and… the still lingering wish to get a taste of those lips…

"I said you're all patched up again," Roman smiled, his brows rising to his hairline in slight amusement. "Where are you?"

Confused, Dean muttered: "What? Uhm... here?"

Soft chuckling.

"No, you're not. You didn't even hear me. I swear the day will come that your head explodes because you're thinking too much." Another sigh as Roman ran his thumb over Dean's good cheek, his beautiful eyes softening. The smile was still there but its quality was different now. Deeper. Richer. And something else, something Dean wanted all to himself, now that he saw it. "Give yourself a rest, Han Solo."

"Did the first step, didn't I? Letting it out instead of bottling it up?" he mumbled, a small smile of his own ghosting on his lips as he hesitantly lifted a hand to tuck a black strand behind Roman's ear.

Yup, he could do it. Touch Roman. Could, was allowed to and yes, he wanted to. Actually, Roman wanted him to do it, too. There, he could see it, it was written all over Roman's face again. And so he just did it, wiping the strand out of the other man's face, tucking it back and as he drew his hand back, he let the black velvet glide through his fingers. He liked the feeling, really. And it hadn't been that hard, too, right?

Roman was coming closer somehow… or was he himself leaning in? Maybe both… their forehead touched lightly… and Dean's heart did a tiny flip in his chest.

"Okay then, I'm gonna grab a quick shower," Roman murmured, averting his gaze as he took his hands off of Dean's face, the loss of contact causing the oh so small smile on Dean's lips to drop. "I think I heard mom come back, so if you want, you can go down for breakfast."

With that Roman straightened up and stored the ointment and plasters away in the bathroom cabinet. Dean's eyes stayed fixed on his friend while he pondered if he should go down or...

"Uh, I think I'll wait for you," Dean mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"The worst thing that can happen is that she'll hug you, you know?" Roman laughed softly.

"I know, it's just... uh..." Dean began hushed, trying to come up with a good reason why he wanted to wait for Roman, failing poorly though.

Yeah, it's just... what? The idea of joining mommy Reigns in the kitchen without Roman somehow made him feel uncomfortable. No, uncomfortable wasn't the right word. More... awkward. It wasn't because of mommy Reigns but the whole situation. It was his first breakfast in this house, the first meal he would be having here as a part of this family and... it was okay to feel awkward, right? Walking about the house and sticking his nose in kitchen cabinets and stuff as if it was the most normal thing in the world... the idea that it was _okay_ to do it was still alien to him...

Why couldn't he just admit that?

And once more Roman saved him from himself as he said reassuringly: "Dean... 's okay. Stop thinking everything to death, will ya? If you want to wait until I'm done, then it's okay. You don't need to explain yourself."

Ducking his head in slight embarrassment, Dean mumbled: "Can I, uh... can I, you know, wait here?"

"Sure. I'll hurry."

Not leaving his place on the rim of the tub, Dean breathed a sigh that got stuck in his throat as Roman began to... strip. Not that it was a surprise that Roman actually lost is clothes before taking a shower yet... he'd only been wearing a pair of sweatpants but those slid down built and nicely shaped legs now, followed by a pair of boxers and...

_... fucking Greek god of hotness..._

He was _staring_. He knew he was. He could not _not_. Roman... was standing there in all his naked glory and fuck yes, this was _glory_ indeed. It was the picture fucking perfect sight of... _unf_... because everything was well-built on this man. Bulging muscles, the big frame being a nicely shaped V that led from those broad shoulders down to a glorious booty and it all was wrapped up in soft, caramel toned skin, together with that handsome face and the black velvet mane... and... for a brief moment Dean's gaze dropped to _that_ place. Yup. Yes. _Everything_ was well-built. No exception _there_.

Holy mother of freaking...

Quickly dropping his gaze to the floor that was pleasantly unsexy, Dean swallowed hard and shifted a bit as sitting became a little... difficult.

Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck...

The fuck he was going to embarrass himself this way. This should _not_ be happening _at all_.

… _water, cascading down a sculpted back… flowing over a nicely round and firm ass… muscles stretching, flexing under smooth skin…_

… and when the fuck had he even looked back up?! Cursing under his breath he tugged at the bathrobe to hide the _evidence_, because the fucking towel _didn't_ hide _anything_ here. Bipolar, much? Going from crying to sporting a wood in record time. Well, admittedly he'd had worse problems than that in the past, but really, not what he needed right now. Would have been a good idea to get up and to his room to get dressed, right? Yup. But, nope, his body seemed to rather stay here.

And then Dean pulled the bathrobe a bit tighter around himself, just to be sure… as Roman turned around to him under the shower, shooting him a crooked little smile before closing his eyes and tilting his head back a tad to rinse his hair. Lush lips parted a wee bit, the handsome features relaxed. The big hands smoothed over the broad chest…

Bastard.

Floor tiles. Looking down to the floor tiles instead of Roman was a good idea. Yes, the floor tiles were safe. And his own feet. Nice feet, but nothing sexy about them. Feet and tiles... and there was a bath mat... and feet, not his own though, there on that bath mat. Calves, nicely shaped and glistening wet, leading up to...

Nope.

"Okay then, let's get dressed. I'm sure mom's already waiting for us," he heard Roman say while he kept his eyes fixed on the bath mat and his friend's feet. Stubbornly not looking up, he watched the little dance Roman did while towelling himself off nevertheless. Stretching, bowing, rubbing... "Earth to Captain Solo?"

"Huh?" Dean breathed.

The critical areas of Superman's body vanished behind a big towel. A towel that was riding dangerously low on Roman's hips.

"You're thinking too much again, dude," Roman sighed, shaking his head lightly as he came walking over to Dean. "Stop that and move that cute li'l butt of yours, breakfast's waiting and I'm starving."

Moving? Not a good idea right now...

"Yeah, in a minute," he frowned. "Need to take a piss."

"Okay then, I'm gonna wait in my room."

And then Dean was alone in the bathroom and for a handful of seconds he remained right where he was, his eyes sweeping over to the shower. Then to the door. Back to the shower. To his bathrobe covered problem. Muttering a _fuck_ he got up to lock the door, the bathrobe slipping from his shoulders and the towel dropping to the floor on the way, before his feet carried him over to the shower.

The tiles were cool against his back as he leaned against the wall while closing his eyes, his right hand finding to his cock to set for a a steady and slow stroking that got quicker soon as his mind wrapped around the image of Roman, engulfed in swirling steam. _Slick skin, hot... and pleasing to the touch..._ and he could almost _feel_ it... With a stifled moan he dipped his head back against the wall as heat pumped through his veins, his blood buzzing in his ears as his heart began to run, as his chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker... and the images in his head kept pushing him further and further...

_Ro..._

Within a ridiculously short time he felt the heat coil up in his stomach and the familiar tightening of his balls. A low, stuttering groan fell from his lips as he slipped over the edge... a groan that was carrying a twisted version of Roman's name.

Cracking his eyes open, he fixed his gaze on the ceiling without really _seeing_. His breathing sounded cut off and sharp in the small room of the shower stall as he tried to catch his breath... and think straight again.

He'd just jerked off in the shower of his best friend... while _thinking of his best friend_...

"Fuck," he panted, rolling his head against the wall. "_Fuck..._"

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><p>Well, I guess this chapter can't draw level with the last ones but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless :3<p>

**As always, am curious about your thoughts ;)**


	10. Changes

Eeeeh, I'm late with the update :(((

Hope that breaking my Wednesday update rhythm doesn't mean bad juju...

Well, now it's done and the next chapter waits for you! Enjoy!

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><p><em>God... damn...<em>

_Bracing on the sill, Roman bowed his head, his hair falling down to conceal his face from the world for a moment that gave him just enough safeness to let his mask drop momentarily while he breathed a sharp little hiss. _

_It didn't work, he realized. Him ordering his own body not to react to Dean. The reaction this man kicked off in him were so very different and complex… and difficult… that he had to find a way to handle the situation before he made a mistake that would ruin everything. Just… like right now…_

_Shifting his stance, he tried to get more comfortable as the jeans he'd thrown on got fucking _uncomfortable tight_ because although he'd somehow managed not to sport a wood back at the bathroom while having a practically naked Dean in his arms, he now did. _Very_. And it was bad enough that it happened at all, because there had been nothing sexy about the situation. Seeing Dean staring at his own reflection with that expression and the kind of breakdown that had been absolutely essential for their relationship... friendship, he corrected, because the other word tasted like he could be with Dean that other way, too… seeing all the damage on full display again..._

_No. No, there had been nothing about the situation that would justify any kind of being aroused. Still he was. With delay, but there was no way to deny it._

_Another sigh fell from his lips, this time a defeated one. It all didn't change the fact though that holding Dean in his arms felt so right and perfect. And Roman was only human, wasn't he? So please add the feeling of a nice body plastered all along him, a vivid warmth and the feeling of soft skin, just as the _trust_ Dean had shown to his feelings for Dean. What came out? Yup, uncomfortable tight jeans._

_Cursing under his breath, Roman tried to think of things which were total turn offs. He had to solve this problem before Dean came here. _

_And how it did _not_ work. Again and again his mind latched on those few minutes because under all the layers of colorful bruises there was a maybe a bit too lean but otherwise well-toned body with a firm and round booty… gosh… _

_The worst thing was that he'd almost kissed Dean. He'd managed to make it an innocent forehead to forehead thing at the very last moment although every goddamn fiber in his body had screamed to just do it, just close that bit of distance and _taste_ Dean. Those eyes… he knew that Dean's baby blues would be his death one day._

_Well, but the last thing Dean needed right now was having to deal with finding out that his best friend harbored romantic feelings for him. Right? Dean was trusting him and that was much, _much_ too precious to allow it to crack. _

_He heard the sound of steps coming closer... yet he heard it not... while he kept staring out of his window, his eyes fixed on a random spot in the yard. No, acutally... it wasn't that random at all, was it? Because it happened just to be that very spot on the lawn they had been sitting minutes ago._

"_Uhm… Ro?" Quiet. Apologetic. Just like the hand that oh so gingerly settled on his back. "Something wrong?"_

_Funny, wasn't it? Because measured by the past two days, everything was pretty much alright right now. His own pubescent bodily reactions here were a joke compared to what had happened. Still no need that Dean noticed something. And maybe it was the fear that Dean _could_ notice it as he stepped up at Roman's side, perching on the sill, which solved the problem at an impressive speed. _

_Closing his eyes for a second, he shook his head slightly no and exhaled a heavy breath, before meeting his friend's gaze with a tiny smile that grew a little at the nice lack of distance between them. Not long ago Dean had shied away from the tiniest of touches and now he was sitting here on that sill with his thigh touching Roman's hand. Dean had put on an old, worn pair of jeans that looked quite baggy on him and was torn open at the knees, showing a bit of skin there. The hoody jacket he was wearing wasn't fully zipped and showed more tempting skin and a shadow of chest hair. Funny, he'd never really acknowledged that Dean actually had chest hair but he did now and holy shit, did he want to lick it…_

Idiot_, he cursed himself silently._

_Luckily his slipped thoughts had no further consequences and so he straightened up, stepped as close as the positions they were in allowed it and patted the thigh closest to him. And for the moment, his hand stayed right there, just above a partly bared knee._

"_No, nothing's wrong. I'm just a bit tired I guess," he said, deciding that a white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. "How about you? Feeling okay?"_

_There was the tiniest of twitches around Dean's mouth and Roman could have sworn that those baby blues widened briefly, before their gaze dropped to the ground. What he was sure about was that there was a faint blush growing on the handsome face while Dean started to pluck at the sleeve of his hoody._

"_Uhm… uh, yeah," Dean replied hushed and the soft smile that tugged at his lips, combined with the blush made him too cute for his own good. _

_Letting his gaze wander over his friend briefly, Roman thought that even if he wouldn't already have been head over heels in love with Dean, that this image now had done the job. The soft smile, the blush and the for whatever reason bashful way he was sitting here, gazing at him with an unfamiliar shy gleam lying in the blue eyes and those still slightly damp blond locks falling unruly… it all made Dean the most adorable being Roman ever had laid his eyes on. Maybe in the simple need to feel more of this man, his fingers splayed on Dean's thigh, sliding a little more to the inside as he leaned closer involuntary. His little finger slipped under the worn fabric in the process and it made the blue eyes seek his gaze again. And wasn't Dean's breath hitching a little?_

_Stop imagining things…_

_Dean opened his mouth a bit as if he wanted to say something but no word passed his lips. Kissable lips. Very. The plucking on the sleeve stopped… and his heart did a flip as Dean put a hand on his, hooking his index finger under Roman's ring finger and for a short moment of just gazing at each other Roman's poor little heart decided to run, run as fast as possible as if it wanted to reach Dean who was so close and at the same time so far away._

_Then, with his hand being squeezed softly the moment was over and Dean slipped from the sill, not letting go of Roman's hand though._

"_Breakfast's waiting, Superman," he heard him say and he was sure the regret that lay in the voice was only a projection of the one he himself felt._

_For a few more steps Dean kept holding on to his hand before his touch vanished, leaving the feeling of a loss behind._

Dean's little breakdown had been essential for that thing between them, but more important it had been essential for Dean to let go like that. To let it out. A big step in his healing process.

They were on their way now to his father's car repair shop because his father had left a note this mornging, suggesting that they'd come over after breakfast so Dean could take a look at the Chevy. There glint of happiness in Dean's eyes when his mother had given them the note had been beautiful and something Roman wanted to see there every day from now on.

With a gentle smile on his lips Roman glanced over to Dean, who was sitting beside him on the co-drivers seat and maybe for the first time ever Dean seemed to be completely relaxed. This morning in the rain, he'd looked freed. Or so Roman had thought. But now... now his friend looked _free_. With his eyes closed and his features smooth, except for the tiniest of smiles ghosting there on these lips Roman so wanted to kiss, Dean was practically sprawling on the seat. His head was tilted to the side a little, his temple resting against the side window, almost as if je was asleep. But he was not. One of his thumbs was brushing slowly but unceasingly over a jeans-clad thigh in a somehow asentminded little motion. Nothing that was born out of stress or tension. All in all it was a beautiful sight and it could have been a perfect one if those bruises wouldn't have been there, marring the handsome face.

The smile on Roman's face dimmed, while his fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles went white at a sudden influx of a rage that somehow had never stopped simmering in him. A rage born out of what that bastard had done to Dean. The colorful evidence on Dean's face made Roman painfully aware that... that when the bruises and cuts were healed... it would be the first time he'd see Dean without any kind of damage. It would be the very first time he would be allowed to see, really _see_ him, see the handsome face unscathed and his body unharmed.

Staring at the street ahead, he scowled at the outside world as he once more wished he'd held Dean back from going home that night. He could have spared him this now, if he'd just tried harder to talk him into staying, he...

Startled he jerked his head to the side at a sudden tapping against his temple and with a gasp he snapped back to the here and now.

"Jesus, Ro, chill!" was chuckled beside him. "Just wanted to check if you zoned out."

It was now that he realized that they were actually in front of his fathers store. The car was standing in the parking lot but the motor was still running while he still had his fingers closed around the steering wheel in a death grip. When the hell had they even arrived here? A little bewildered he gazed over to Dean, who quirked a brow at him.

"The car?" Dean asked, tilting his head to the side in question.

"What?" Roman mumbled.

A second later it sunk in. The motor was still running, yeah, right. The motor. Quickly shutting the car off, he shook his mind clear and focused back on Dean who now was looking at him in mild worry.

"What were you thinking about?" Dean wanted to know while sitting up straighter and turning towards Roman.

The slight flinch as he moved and the very quiet groan he tried to cover as a heavy breath didn't go unnoticed by Roman though, who immediately extended a hand to check on him.

"The kidney?" he asked concerned, putting a hand on his friend's sore left side.

"Don't change the subject, Ro." His hand was allowed to stay were it was obviously, because instead of peeling it off, the other man just pressed against it and trapped it between his body and the backrest of the seat, before putting his right hand on Roman's forearm, squeezing it gently as he added: "Spill it, dude. Where have you been?" He didn't say it. But now answer _was_ an answer and Dean understood. Roman could hear it in the sigh his friend breathed. "Stop blaming yourself, will ya? It wasn't your fault. Okay?"

Roman nodded. Not he didn't know that Dean was right, it was just... it didn't make him feel better. Not the least bit. Breathing another sigh, Dean brought a hand up and with the tips of his thumb and index finger he pushed the corners of Roman's mouth upwards, smiling softly as he said: "A smile looks better on you, you know?" He took his hand away then and the Dean's smile grew as the one on Roman's lips stayed in place. "Good boy," Dean praised him, reaching out to pat Roman's head. "And now move your butt and show me around."

It was a car repair shop with two bigger garages, each with two auto hoists and a good handful of people being busy on the cars on them. Roman showed Dean around, watched as Dean walked up to one of the mechanics to look over the man's shoulder and ask him stuff and seeing Dean like that, relaxed, interested and open was good. It was perfect. And Dean was smiling, a free and sunny smile and Roman couldn't remember that he had ever seen him smile this much.

That thought made another one come to the fore.

Something had changed... ever since this morning. Actually... ever since those minutes in the bathroom. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was though. Yeah, Dean smiling and the being relaxed was obvious but there was something else. Maybe the fact that the hesitation Dean had shown so often already with freely touching him wasn't as present anymore as it had been. Dean came back over to him eventually, toying with a wheel nut. He looked happy. He really did. His eyes were sparkling brightly and Dean... he was _shining_.

What a gorgeous creature...

"I hope this thing isn't needed anywhere? Like, on a car wheel?" Roman snorted, pointing at the wheel nut.

"Nope. Carl said I can take it," Dean grinned as they fell into step side by side.

There was still an achingly visible limp in the way Dean walked but for an aftermath of a beating like Dean had been going through it was acceptable. It could have been worse. _Much_ worse.

"Carl?" Roman wondered.

"Yeah, the mechanic I've been talking with," Dean stated, throwing the wheel nut up into the air, catching it again. "This is your father's shop and you don't know the names of the people who're working here?"

Up into the air. Catching it. Again. And again. And then Roman snatched it away before it landed on Dean's palm again, earning himself an elbow in the ribs and a glare.

"Give it back," Dean grumbled, reaching around Roman as he held it out of Dean's reach.

"It's worn and dirty," Roman stated. "Wait a minute and you can have a brand-new one."

"But I want this one," he heard Dean mutter as he once again attempted get it back somehow, without success though. "Ro, come on. Give it back."

With an amused frown, Roman handed it back to his friend because he didn't want to spoil the mood because for some reason this little thingy seemed to be important to Dean. The wheel nut was taken from his hand and weighing it in his own hand, Dean gazed at it briefly before looking back to Roman.

"Thanks."

"No need to say thank you but why this thing to important to you?" Roman wanted to know as they continued their way.

"Just because," was the answer.

Glancing at Dean, he couldn't help but feel a tugging at his insides as he found his friend eyeing the small item with a weird kind of fondness lying in his gaze, before closing his fingers around it tightly, as if he wanted to make sure that it wouldn't get lost. Under no circumstances.

Not even a minute later they walked into a small garage and they had barely stepped in as he heard the voice of his father from somewhere behind them, calling a hello. Looking over his shoulder he saw his father walking towards them and he stepped out again to hold the door open for him while gazing over to Dean again. It was rather dark in the garage and the daylight which fell through the open door dyed the room in a dusty bluish grey, probably like one would imagine this kind of a garage. Just big enough for the car and some tools, the whole room somewhat dirty and seldom properly aired or exposed to sunlight. The smell of motor oil was lying in the air. Opening his mouth the wanted to tell Dean to come over and say hello to his dad, but the words never came out, stopped by the image his eyes fell on.

Dean was slowly walking along the Camaro towards the hood, running his fingers along the slender body of the car while his other hand toyed unceasingly and a bit absentmindedly with the wheel nut again. When he reached the hood, he let his hand rest on the hood while his eyes roamed over the car once more and Roman couldn't help but think that, yes, Dean belonged here, right here between the dusty locker and oil-stained cloth, slightly rusty tools and old tyres and a car that needed some attention.

"She's a beauty," Dean mumbled more to himself than actually to the world around him as he kept gazing at the car.

Roman side-glanced his father as he appeared at his side, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey, dad," Roman greeted him, mirroring his father's pose.

"Hey, son," his father greeted back as he watched Dean walking along the car again. "How's he doing?"

"Quite good I'd say," he replied quietly. "He even survived mom's hug-attack."

Soft laughter beside him.

"She barely couldn't wait for the two of you to finally fall out of the bed," his father chuckled. "And he really looks better. Happy."

Roman's eyes dropped to the ground momentarily, before he sought his father's gaze, murmuring: "Happy, yeah... Uhm, thanks, dad. Thanks for allowing him so stay and, you know... for everything."

"He's a good boy. He deserves a chance." A pause. A sigh. Then: "I've been talking to the principal of your school and explained to him what has happened and I told him that Dean will stay at home a few more days until he feels good enough to get back to school. I also told him that if he doesn't want me to press charges against the school for ignoring how Dean has been looking all the time, that he should make sure that the negative entries in Dean's file won't influence his grades and that he'll be allowed to repeat the last tests if necessary."

"You did _what_?" Roman snorted at his fathers brazenness to actually threaten their principal like that. Another thing he had to thank him for though. "What did he say?"

"Let's say he was quick to agree," his father stated, pursing his lips yet it didn't stop a pretty satisfied expression to shine through. "And now excuse me while I'm gonna say hello to my car-loving new son."

"Why do I have the feeling that you'll be stealing him away from me?" Roman muttered, getting another chuckle and a pat on his shoulder as response, before his father made his way over to Dean.

Dean looked up as he was approached slowly. Sika held his hand out to him and for the briefest of moments Roman saw doubt flicker on Dean's face as if he wasn't sure if taking the hand was really safe. After a second he took it though. And then Roman watched as his father pulled Dean in for a hug, slowly and gently, giving the younger man the chance to back out if he wanted... or needed to... but Dean gave no resistance, instead allowed the older man to do this. It was a mix of dimmed sadness and hesitant happiness with just a trace of uneasiness that washed over Dean's face while being wrapped up in that kind of a fatherly embrace.

It was probably a new experience for him and that thought alone was so bitter that Roman had to swallow hard.

A hushed exchange of words followed after the two men stepped apart. There was a _thanks_ and a _son_ which reached his ears, not much but the fact that Dean smiled happily again was enough for Roman to know that the situation was more than okay.

It was almost ridiculous. Put two car freaks together and what you got yourself was being kicked out of that very special little world that immediately came to life and while his father and Dean began to walk around the car, chatting busily, Roman found himself waiting at the door, forgotten by both men. It was nice to watch, that easy talking between his dad and Dean, as if they had know each other forever. Roman didn't really listen to what they were talking about because the moment his ears caught _carburetor_ and _exhaust manifold gasket_, his brain decided to tune the sound out and just watch, his thoughts wandering off to their breakfast...

_"Dean..." _

_It was the light voice of his mother that greeted them as they entered the kitchen, following the lovely scent of pancakes and coffee that had greeted them on the stairs already. Maybe Roman should have known it would happen and intervene before his mother had the chance to do it, crowding a too overwhelmed to react Dean in her mother-hen-like way by embracing him. Tightly. Leaving Dean standing there frozen, obviously unable to even move a finger before he managed to shake himself out of it a few seconds later, bringing his arms up around her to hug her back. Hesitantly... but by the expression on his face... happily. After another moment she let go of him but not without kissing him on the forehead, just like she was always leaving a kiss on Roman's, and brushing a tender finger over the sore cheek.  
><em>

_"Are you feeling better, baby?" she asked and caused a funny derailment in Dean's features at being called baby._

_He didn't seem to mind yet he was obviosuly taken by surprise._

_"I, uhm, I..." he stuttered, glancing over to Roman with a most baffled expression on his face before looking back at Patricia. "I... yeah... I guess..."_

_Cute._

_"Good," she smiled and took his hand, leading him to the dining room._

_Sighing quietly because train mommy had overrun Dean with a load of affection again, Roman trailing behind them to the table, glad that Dean was coping much better with it today than he had been the day before. What followed was big eyes and hesitation on Dean's very quiet side of the table as a pile of pancakes was placed right in front of him, along with steaming coffee, orange juice and fruit slices and at Patricia's question if he wanted some scrambled eggs and bagels, too, all Dean did was nod silently while staring at the pancakes. Watching out for any kind of uneasiness on the other man's face, Roman found none. Only... confusion. _

_"Dean?" he asked lowly, reaching over the corner of the table to lay a hand on Dean's hand._

_A twitch on Dean's face. And for a second or two... no other reaction. _

_Then: "How do you even manage to keep your shape with a mom who feeds you so much tasty stuff?"_

_Dean looked up then, shooting him a smile but Roman knew him well enough already to know that this was an attempt to overplay the situation. _

_Deciding to play along, he replied: "Well, was hard work, but I guess I'm out of the game now. Looks like she made it her mission to feed you round and happy."_

_Puffing a weak chuckle, Dean said: "Round and happy, huh? I'm afraid that'll happen if she keeps up putting things like that on my plate. Huh... can't remember the last time I had some pancakes, man."_

_"Then you should eat," Roman urged, giving Dean's hand free. _

_And said hand was used immediately to reach for the maple syrup. It was as cute as it was sad to watch Dean as he emptied his plate, not really hastily but definitely like someone who was used to eat quickly to make sure no one took his food away. Or maybe even like someone who hadn't been eating for days. Not the first time he was noticing it. And sure as hell something that had to stop soon.  
><em>

_A few minutes later his mom came back with the eggs and bagels and frowning Roman wondered if Dean had some additional stomachs where he did put all the food in while his mother was all smiles about having found someone who ate all she put on the table and here he wasn't referring to the quality but the quantity. The breakfast was rather quiet, silent actually from Dean's side who was too busy with chewing and nursing his coffe, Roman watched the spectacle with a tiny smile. _

_"Your dad left a note," Patricia said as she sat down at the table, too, after while, handing it over to Roman. "He asks if you two want to come over to the shop after the breakfast."_

_"You up for a little trip?" Roman asked, gazing from his mother over to Dean who looked at him with... with happily sparkling eyes..._

_Question answered._

_A nod followed as Dean swallowed the bite he'd been busy with down. The smile that followed was different from all those Roman had been allowed to see on his friend's face before. Somehow brighter and... with a hint of dimples... _

_Roman's heart did a somersault. Dimples! Too. Damn. Cute._

_"Fuc..." Dean began, snapping his mouth shut with an apologetic expression. "Yeah, that would be great," he said instead._

_"Good," Roman smiled softly, leaning back in his chair while sipping his coffee and stretching his legs out, knowing already that Dean would fall in love with the Chevy the moment he would lay his eyes on the car.  
><em>

_It made him a bit jealous, he had to admit but that thought got lost as he felt a weight settling on his outstretched legs, realizing that it was one of Dean's, not accidentally bumping into him but carefully being lowered. Dropping his gaze to his plate again, Dean continued to eat. Under different circumstances Roman would have called it slightly possessive, the way he'd put his leg there. Right now though he wasn't sure how to name it. The circumstances were how they were and t___hey were both constantnly overthinking things too much, _so maybe he should for once not do that and so he took another sip from his coffee and settled for good and don't question it...  
><em>

"He's looking better," a familiar voice said right beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. "And you do, too."

Seth. Right, they had agreed to meet here and over his musing he'd totally forgotten about Seth. Pushing away from the doorframe, he turned around to his friend who stepped closer, meeting him for a hug.

"It'll take a few days until he's recovered but yeah, he does look better," Roman replied as they parted. "And he's less tense already, like, you know, allowing hugs and stuff. Doesn't freak anymore when you touch him."

"Hey, that's great! You're working wonders on him, huh?" Seth smiled, fixing his eyes on Sika and Dean who hadn't even noticed that he was here.

"Let's say I can help him a little to let go of his past..." Roman said, softly nudging Seth to follow him outside.

Leaving the door open, Roman walked over to some old, stacked tyres and sat down, bracing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands while his eyes involuntay found back to that open door. Sitting down on the stack right next to him, Seth patted his thigh and mirrored his pose, only that he looked at Roman, not at the door. And the questions in his gaze where almost palpable.

"He's been sleeping in my bed last night," Roman murmured then, unable to hold back the silly but utterly happy grin that bloomed on his face.

Surprised silence for a moment.

Then: "Wait, he did what?"

And Roman began to tell Seth everything that had happened after he'd sent Seth home. Every little detail up to the moment when they had come here and while he replayed the events again, he became more and more aware of the fact that he had no fucking idea what he would do that day when Dean moved out and on, living his own life. It was a bit frightening, wasn't it? How attached he had become to Dean in such a short time and so many levels? And the day that Dean moved on _would_ come, had to because that was life, right? And there was so much for Dean to catch up on, like _living_ in the first place.

Only that Roman wished that Dean would be living this life together with him. In every meaning this wish implied...

Being done with his report, Roman sighed and shook his head softly. So much had happened in such a short time and it still felt like a bit surreal to him, this all. A hand was placed in the back of his neck and squeezed lightly in a gentle massage, causing him to bow his head forward to give better access because the touch was soothing. Seth worked on him like that, soothing, providing the feeling of not being alone with whatever was weighing down on him and the effect his li'l bro had on him was so very different to what Dean kicked off in him.

"I still can't get over the fact that he actually spent the night in your bed," Seth snorted unbelievingly.

"Huh, I wished he would sleep in my bed every night from now on, but I guess that was a one-time thing."

"Dunno, from what you said he rather wants you close, even if it doesn't look like that at the first moment. Wait and see, the guy has a clingy nature. He just needs some time to arrange himself with his new life." Roman looked over to his friend and was met by warm brown eyes. Pretty eyes. And once more he wondered what those eyes would have done to him if he hadn't fallen for Dean. A soft gleam shone up in them as Seth added quietly: "Think I gotta be careful or else he'll snatch you away from me, huh?"

"Not gonna happen, pretty boy. Never," he promised because just as he couldn't imagine his life without Dean anymore, he sure couldn't think of one without Seth.

Both had become inherent parts of his life.

"Told you not to call me that, didn't I?" Seth murmured, his fingers stilling on Roman's neck.

Giving his friend a crooked little smile, Roman replied hushed: "Just telling the truth."

Bringing his hand up to cover Seth's, he wondered if under circumstances and in that other world were it wouldn't have been baby blues which had stolen his heart but chocolate seas, if there would have been a chance that Seth might have been interested in him _that_ way. Maybe? Sometimes, even in this world, it felt as if the bond they shared ran other ways than just the one of friendship... but it was only his imagination anyway that made it seem like that, caused by his sad little heart that was looking for some comfort. If possible, the gleam in Seth's eyes became even softer and his lips parted just a bit... lips which Roman knew were soft and tasting of cherry... He'd kissed him that one time. He shouldn't do it again. Really shouldn't. Really _not_. It was wrong, on so many levels not okay to even think about it let alone do it again... even if the hand on his neck gently pulled him in this very second...

And whatever had been lying in the air between them, it froze and dropped to the ground, breaking into a thousand pieces as a rough voice cut into the moment.

"Get yourselves a room."

Dean.

_Shit..._

- tbc -

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><p>We'll start the next chapter with being in Roman's head again :)<p>

**Got some words for me? :D**


	11. Raising Hackles

Uh-oh… torn emotions here about Sethie and Ro ;3

So now, trying to get back to my Humday Abreigns update rhythm.

I'm at work and updating this illegally, so except THANK YOUUUUU FOR ALL THE FEEDBACK, I LOVE YOU GUYS! I'm making this short.

Have fun!

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><p><strong>- <span>Roman<span> -**

Roman's eyes snapped up to Dean who was standing there, not even two meters away from them and cursing himself, he drew back so quickly that Seth didn't even have the time to let go of him, but he barely registered the sharp pain as a few strands of hair caught in Seth's fingers.

The expression on Dean's face was awfully blank. This... this was so not good...

Before he or Seth could utter a word, Dean stepped up to them, conjuring up a smile as he said: "So you've only come here to steal Roman, huh?"

Jokingly said but not jokingly meant. At least it sounded to Roman like that. Somewhat hollow and a bit tense. Seth was quicker than Roman to shake the surprise off, standing up to meet Dean half-way and wrap his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Good to see you," he murmured. It took Dean a moment before he brought his arms up, too, returning the hug. "How are you feeling?"

Politely peeling himself out of Seth's embrace after another moment, Dean replied: "Okay, thanks."

The smile was still in place and for someone who did not know Dean, it might have looked as if things were fine but Roman knew better. He could read it in all those tiny details that Dean's words didn't match. The subtle stiffness of Dean's shoulders. His hands, one being closed to a loose fist while the fingers of his other hand were wrapped around the wheel nut again or maybe even still, his thumb rubbing nervously over the dirty little thingy. The way his nostrils flared. The rather guarded expression in his eyes. That smile on his lips that was neither sunny nor reaching his eyes. A smile that wasn't cheerful but supposed to cover something else. Like confusion. Or... disappointment... And maybe some other emotions which Dean shouldn't have to be dealing with because they shouldn't be there at all.

The blue eyes jumped to Roman then, sending an uneasy shiver down his spine.

Fuck.

"Uhm, I'll stay with your dad at the shop for a while. An hour or so," Dean stated, ignoring Seth who was blinking at him confused about being ditched like that. His voice was as blank as his face had been. "You don't need to wait for me, I'll ride with your dad."

With that he turned away and walked off. Looking at Seth, Roman found the same uneasy feeling that sat in his guts mirroring on his friend's face and whispering a _sorry_ to Seth, he got up from the spot he had been frozen to and followed Dean, leaving Seth behind.

"Dean!" Roman called, quickening his steps to catch up with his friend. "Dean, wait!"

Stopping, Dean turned around to him, frowning in question. Opening his mouth to explain, Roman said nothing for a moment because he had no fucking idea what to say at all. I love you? No. Not now, not here. Not after Dean's reaction because he couldn't even be sure that his friend really had no problem with him being gay...

"Your dad's waiting, so if it's nothing important then let's talk later about it."

Nothing important? Fuck yes, it _was_ important. He'd made Dean trust him while not being honest with him and he was sorry for betraying him like that. _That was fucking important, dammit._

"I'm sorry," he said then. Apologizing was a good start, right? "I should have told you that I'm gay, I... ah shit... I just didn't want to, like scare you off or..."

The frown on Dean's face deepened as he cut him off: "Don't worry. I don't have a problem with you being gay and I understand that you, you know, didn't tell me from the first moment on."

A small and a bit sad smile danced on Dean's lips. A was real one though... that vanished as fast as it had come.

"But I lied to you and that's not okay," Roman said quietly, taking a step closer and to his relief Dean didn't back out.

"You didn't lie, you just haven't told me everything. It's okay, Ro," Dean replied, wiping the relief Roman had felt away he pulled his hand away when Roman wanted to take hold of it.

"Dean..."

"Later, okay?" Dean said, giving him a crooked little smile before turning away again to go back to daddy Reigns.

Torn between following him and just going back to Seth and let Dean have his time alone here, Roman stood glued to the spot where he had been left behind, stuck in this fucking worst case scenario just because...

"Fuck…" he whispered, staring wide eyed after Dean who kept walking away without the tiniest glance back. "Fuck…!"

He flinched as a hand closed around his shoulder. Seth. It was Seth.

"You should follow him," Seth murmured but Roman shook his head no. No pushing. No pressure. It was obvious that Dean wanted to be alone now. "Rome, you…"

"No."

"You can't let him walk away like that."

Swallowing hard, he willed his heart that had started to pound hard in his chest to calm down, because he was already feeling dizzy.

"He wants to be alone," he said just above a whisper, his voice shaking under the heavy beating of his heart. "We should go."

It took him a few long seconds until he actually could move to go back to his car, not wanting though but knowing it was the right thing to do now.

The ride home was very quiet. Seth seemed to feel guilty about the whole thing, although there was no need to feel guilty. Not really. But while they were sitting in the car, Roman was so lost in his thoughts that for once he couldn't bring his mind to focus on Seth and talk things out. He was scared. Scared that he'd just ruined everything.

With his dad and Dean being at the shop and his mom being out to visit a friend, the house seemed ridiculously empty as they arrived there a while later. Well, actually it was mostly Dean's absence that caused this feeling, what was pretty irrational, given that it's been just a little more than a day that Dean was here now. Barely enough to leave an echoe of his presence behind in here that could whisper that he was missing. Yet it was what Roman heard as he made his way up to his own room with Seth following close behind.

_... Dean is not here... _

But he will be in an hour, he reminded himself, had to, because in a way there was still a part of him that just couldn't believe that Dean was living here now. Dean would be here again to fill the void that was reigning in the house. He _would_ be, right? And he would be _staying_.

Right?

He exhaled a slightly panicked, sharp breath as an anxiety that the almost kiss had destroyed all he had worked and fought so hard for crept to the fore, but he forced it right back to where it had come from. Another sharp breath passed his lips as he braced on the windowsill Dean had been sitting on this morning. He would have felt a little better about the whole thing if Dean wouldn't have pulled his hand away because he couldn't file that gesture. Was it confusion? Disgust? Was he angry?

_Fuck..._

"Rome?" Seth's voice was very quiet, careful as if he expected Roman to be angry with him. "I'm sorry, you know? Wasn't my intention to kick hell loose," Seth added even quieter. With a sigh Roman straightened up and turned around to his friend who was standing in the middle of the room like a lost puppy. And every time Roman thought Seth couldn't look any cuter than he already did, he was proved wrong. Seth looked sheepish as he stood there, the brown eyes were wide and the hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, the shoulders hunched a little... the hair as always a bit messy. _Cute_. "Do you rather want me to go?"

Leaning back against the sill, Roman shook his head no, replying gently: "No, I don't want you to go. And I'm not angry if that's what you think."

"Actually, yeah, that was what I've been thinking because you looked as if you are," Seth murmured, now slowly walking up to him.

"No, it's just... I'm pissed with myself for being so stupid," Roman groaned, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration because he still had no idea how to fix this. Well, he would have to wait until Dean came home and see how he was going to react to him, would again avoid him or... whatever. When his hands dropped down again, Seth was standing right in front of him. His friend was gazing at him out from under his lashes, still somewhat sheepish yet... there was something else... Whatever this between them had been back at the shop, they needed to talk about it. "Why did you want to kiss me?" he asked then, watching as a slight blush spread over Seth's cheek and his gaze dropped to the sill in obvious embarrassment.

Seth's bottom lips got caught between his teeth and no, it didn't help a bit because it made Roman want to lean in and free it and _fuck_, this was a completely wrong way his thoughts were heading this very second. He didn't have a thing for Seth, definitely not because in his poor little heart was brimming over with his feelings for Dean. There was no space left for Seth in _that_ way. But maybe... maybe his unrequited feelings for Dean were the problem here, right? And all the emotions the events had stirred in him. Maybe it all was seeking an outlet now...

"Just... because?" Seth mumbled, the blush on his face deepening.

Blinking slowly, Roman murmured: "Just because? Seth, you're not gay. Straight guys don't want to kiss other men _just because_."

Now it was Seth's turn to sigh as he pushed a hand through his hair, hesitantly gazing back up to Roman.

"I don't know, man, I just wanted to... I mean, you... I..." Closing his eyes, Seth dipped his head back a little and exhaled a breath that carried a _fuck_. "You know, when you kissed me back at the school yard, I... it felt..." Another breathed _fuck_ followed, the brown eyes opening again but their gaze fixed on the ceiling as Seth's lips curled in a weird little something that might have been supposed to be a smile. "It felt nice, okay? You kissed me and it felt nice and at your father's shop I... I... don't know, it just happened. I wanted you to kiss me again..."

Brown met grey as Seth eventually met Roman's gaze again and suddenly... that _something_ that had been there between back at the shop was there again. Roman could feel it and the glint in the other man's eyes told him that Seth felt it, too. It was making the air between them hum with a graspable intensity. It was back... or maybe it had never really been gone? It shouldn't be there at all but it _was_ and it was fed by Seth's naive curiosity and Roman's pathetic need for a kind of comfort he couldn't ask from Dean. They moved at the same time, Seth coming closer while Roman reached out, twisting his fingers in the other man's shirt to pull him in until Seth was standing between his legs. A hand was lifted to be buried it in Roman's hair to tug him even closer.

Foreheads touched... The faint scent of cherry crept into his nostrils as warm breath fleeted over his face in shallow and quick puffs and closing his eyes, Roman wrapped his arms around the leaner frame, laying one of his hands on the spot between Seth's shoulder blades. Fingers splayed... the body in his arms pressing closer... and a gentle hand found a place on the back of Roman's neck... and Roman's heart, it started running while his chest clenched in the unvoiced need for comfort. Just a little bit...

Lips on his... just the idea of a touch. Tempting...

Exhaling an oh so tiny sound that sounded sad and torn, Roman drew back a little. His eyes burned suspiciously and he couldn't even tell why but as he sought Seth's eyes, he felt the tears already rise in his own. Again he was pulled in. A kiss was breathed to Roman's forehead, the so very innocent yet intimate gesture enough to make the tears fall. Gentle hands guided his head to Seth's shoulder where he buried his face in the hollow of his friend's neck, tightening his hold on the smaller man.

He willed the tears to stop, fucking wanted them not to fall but he failed, the hot liquid spilling from his eyes freely while Seth whispered soothingly to him...

Maybe an hour later his eyes were still burning but despite his little breakdown he was feeling better. For long minutes they had been standing like that, Seth soothing him while he'd been holding on to his friend as if he would drown in the mess that was his emotions if he wasn't, while his body had refused to stop the tears, as if it wanted to wash all the strain and the tension out of his system. And in a way it had worked. He felt lighter now. Relieved. Free to breathe through again and the humming that had been lying between Seth and him had dimmed to a comfortable whispering, still there but under control. They hadn't lost many words about it. A _thank you_ from him and an _anytime_ from Seth, followed by an admittedly wistful gaze from him. One that was shared by Seth though.

Obviously his own emotional state had been more ruffled than he had been aware all the time and now with his own feelings a bit more in order again, he could look in those chocolate seas without falling victim to his own needs. And it was what he did now, looking over to Seth who was sitting beside him on the left side of the bed, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he stared at the flat screen in highest concentration while playing Call Of Duty. Tempting lips, a teasing tongue... he still felt a hushed urge to taste those cherry lips again and he wondered...

Pressing the pause button he murmured: "How far would you have taken it?"

Putting the gamepad aside, Seth shifted a bit until he was facing Roman.

"Thought we were through with this topic? At least for today?" Seth asked, a frown spreading on the pretty face.

"I was just wondering..." Roman stated slowly.

Just a kiss often enough led to more kisses. And then to more kisses and touches and then... well...

"To be honest... I don't know," Seth replied quietly. "It feels good to have you close and ever since you've kissed me I've been thinking about it. Fuck you for being such a damn good kisser, because you are, Reigns. So basically I've just been thinking about us kissing."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Roman snorted. "You're old enough to know that kissing often enough leads to more."

Seth shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unfazed as he answered: "Yeah, I know. And that's the weird thing about it because the mere idea of kissing a guy makes me wanna scrub my tongue with sandpaper and then you come along and... yeah. I'm not gay and I don't even have a crush on you, still I want you to kiss me and..." Seth fell silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to a random point on the bed while he seemed to turn a thought back and forth to examine it closer. "I don't know, Rome. I don't know how far I would have taken it because I can't say that the idea of taking it further with you puts me off."

Holy... shit.

Rendered speechless, Roman blinked at Seth who met his gaze again and there was no mirth written on his face or any other hint that this had been a joke.

"Seth, do you know what you're saying here?" he eventually managed to bring over his lips, unsure whether he should be amused or shocked about what was just happening and his voice was a bit breathless to his own ears but _fuck_, Seth had practically just said that he would...

_No, don't even go there._

"Yeah, I know very well what I'm saying, Rome," Seth said, his features softening as he reached out to smooth a black strand out of Roman's face. "It's your hobby, isn't it? Being the big exception in other people's lives? In Dean's, in mine..."

Seth was right, wasn't he? In a way the three of them were the big exceptions in each other's lives, each one in their own way and with a mighty impact.

"Huh, just like you two are the big exceptions in mine," he laughed softly. "I think we deserve each other, don't we?"

Seth's hand dropped back down and found a home on Roman's thigh and for a heartbeat Roman's gaze sought that hand and not for the first time he thought that, yes, Seth had nice hand, elegant, with long, slender fingers. Gentle hands which provided comfort, which could soothe troubles.

"So right now... you want to kiss me?" he mumbled, slowly gazing back up again.

The brown eyes widened briefly... and softened.

Pretty, fawn eyed boy.

"Yes," Seth admitted wistfully, attempting to take his hand off of Roman's thigh, who covered it with his own to keep it there. "Just like _you_ want to kiss _me_, but we both know that Dean has the exclusive rights on your kisses."

Looking back down on their hands, Roman sighed: "I don't think he wants them. The chances that he's into guys is close to null anyway."

Seth's hands looked so much smaller compared to his own. Not like Dean's. Dean's hands were as big as his own. Not as massive though. Dean had nice hands...

"You'll only find out if you tell him that you love him," he heard his friend say.

He knew that. Still...

"I can't."

"_Tell him_," Seth repeated, this time more insistently. "Maybe not today or tomorrow but do it before he finds out about it accidentally."

Pushing a hand through his hair, Roman rested his head back against the wall, puffing a bitter breath.

"I don't even know what will be when he comes home today. What if he's angry or grossed out or...?"

"Rome, stop it. Seeing his best friend almost kiss another guy is a joke compared to the shit Dean went through. I'm pretty sure that finding out that you're gay is something he can handle. That little push hasn't shoved him out of your orbit. He's stuck there, just like you're stuck in his."

"I told you this once already, Rollins, just stop being so disgustingly grown-up."

"Well, one of us has to be," Seth grinned and squeezed the thick thigh. "You feeling better, big bro?"

Roman nodded, brushing his thumb over the back of his friend's hand in a silent _thank you_. Companionable silence settled over them for a minute. It was nice. Calm.

"You're sitting on _my_ place, Rollins."

Startled both men snapped their heads around to the source of the voice that had a certain edge in it. Dean was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was carefully neutral but even from his place on the bed Roman could see the glint that was sparking in the sky blue eyes. He couldn't file that glint what didn't help the least bit to make him feel better. In fact he felt his insides clench because... how long had Dean already been standing there? What if he'd overheard their conversation?

_Shit. _

"Your place, dude?" Seth huffed half-heartedly. "The last time I checked this was Roman's bed." Gazing over to the headboard, he tilted his head while his eyes swept over it. "No... no. Can't find a label with your name on it..." he smiled, looking back over to Dean.

Roman watched the back and forth in partly confused but surely relieved silence because if Dean would be angry or disgusted, he wouldn't claim the bed now, would he? Dean and Seth both quirked an eyebrow, Seth in slight amusement and Dean pondering while staring at each other, although... wasn't there was another emotion mingling in the expression on Dean's face? Matching the edge his voice had been dyed with?

"Been sleeping there last night, 's my place," Dean drawled as he pushed away from the frame, coming over to them. "Move your ass, Rollins."

"Marking our territory, are we?" Seth snorted, shaking his head softly.

He scooted to the foot of the bed nevertheless as Dean came to stand beside the bed, his face wearing a friendly _don't mess with me_, while his stance spoke of an equally friendly _move or I'll make you_. A pretty good impression of a dog that was raising its hackles.

Lowering himself down on the bed with a grunt, Dean scooted and shifted until he was comfortable beside Roman, sitting propped up on a pillow against the headboard and a flood of warm relief washed through Roman because maybe Dean was disappointed, maybe even miffed that he hadn't been honest with him, but at least it seemed as if Dean wasn't grossed out or _too_ disappointed. Maybe they had made two steps back, but he could fix this.

He got a confirmation for his musing as Dean shifted once more until their shoulders touched, just like he found a silent _we're good_ in the baby blues. A voice in the back of his mind warned that this was going too easy but maybe for once it simply _was_ easy instead of evolving to a problem.

"You guys playing Call Of Duty?"

"Yeah," Roman replied, holding the gamepad out to him. "Wanna play a round?"

"Nah, I'm not good at that shit," Dean muttered, pursing his lips.

"Not good?" Roman parroted, his brows rising to his hairline as he looked at Seth while nodding his head in Dean's direction. "Not good he says. More like impertinently good. He stole my show the last time. Tells me he's never played it before and then he makes me look like a goddamn gaming dyslexic!"

Dean chuckled beside him and he loved it. Hearing any kind of amused or happy sound from him made warmth in his heart bloom.

"Come on, Ambrose," Seth grinned, leaning over to take the gamepad from Roman's hand, only to throw it in Dean's lap. "You and me against the bad guys?"

Silently Dean gazed down at the controller, then at Seth, over to Roman and back to the controller. Frowning Roman watched the scenario and somehow he couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was something hanging in the air between them. Not really unfriendly but rather unsettled if that made sense and while it had a sour taste from Dean's side, it wore a teasing note from Seth's.

"Nah, I'll just chill a little while you guys save the world," Dean half-groaned, half-sighed as he slipped a bit deeper into the pillow, crossing his arms over his chest loosely while stretching his legs out.

He was sounding tired, Roman noticed, and now that Dean was more lying than actually sitting beside him, he also looked tired. Not that it was really surprising, was it? After all Dean wasn't really back on his feet yet, so even if spending time at the car repair shop had been fun, it sure had been straining as well.

"Need something?" Roman asked hushed, searching his friend's face for a hint of unvoiced discomfort but there was none, only baby blues which were already on half-mast as Dean shook his head no.

Murmuring an _okay_ Roman focused back on the game and Seth, who raised an amused brow. The game continued. Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen... until Roman felt Dean move beside him and a pressure against his arm and as he glanced at his friend, he found Dean lying half on his side with his face buried against Roman's arm and his neck angled awkwardly. A soft snore followed. Briefly pausing the game again, Roman carefully moved his arm out of the way. Dean didn't wake up but with a hum he inched closer, resting his head on the broad chest while curling up against Roman.

For a moment Roman forgot about the world around them because Dean looked almost angelic when he was asleep. Even younger than he was anyway. Smooth, relaxed features, those nice lips slightly parted... the blond hair tousled...

Carefully so as not to wake his friend, he placed his placed his arm around the leaner frame and in response Dean turned his face a bit more against his chest, mumbling something unintelligible. Warmth spread along his side where Dean was lying curled against him and there was a warmth growing in his chest, too. Putting the controller aside, he brought his other hand up to the blond mop and tenderly ran his fingers through it. He had to, _needed_ to feel it. So soft...

And God how he wished he could simply wrap him up in his arms completely and just hold him close. Feel him. Kiss him. Forever.

"See? Everything's okay," Seth said hushed. "He's not angry with you and he sure isn't grossed out."

"Yeah... I don't know what I would have done if he, dunno, wouldn't have wanted to stay here."

He felt Seth put a hand on his leg just above his ankle, felt him brush his thumb back and forth gently.

"You have it so bad for him, it would have broken you."

Seth's statement was very quiet and achingly sober and it struck a chord in him that resonated in a way he didn't want to acknowledge. Not that he wasn't aware of it... that after such a short time already and without even knowing it, Dean had all his strings in hands and thus the power to make him fall by simply cutting those strings off. Admitting it would make his need for Dean even more present. Vital.

Don't let go. I need you.

His breath hitched as Dean moved once more and placed a hand on his belly, fingers twisting into his shirt in a loose hold. A tug. A mumble. A sigh.

And then an apologetic little snore.

"He's jealous."

Now Roman _did_ look up, blinking slowly at Seth.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Jealous. Of me. Don't tell me you haven't noticed anything."

Jealous... maybe that was what he hadn't been able to put his fingers on...

"You think?"

"Yeah. Think about it, he just got a family and I guess he doesn't want to lose that? Especially you?"

His gaze swept down to the peacefully sleeping Dean and wiping a few stubborn strands away from his friend's forehead, he said quietly, more to Dean actually than to Seth: "Not gonna happen. Never."

"You gonna talk to him later, don't you?"

"Uhm, yeah, when we're alone. Huh, I guess it's gonna be awkward, even if he doesn't have a problem with me being gay. After all he had to watch his best friends almost kiss and I'm still not sure how to explain that."

"How about the truth?"

Exhaling a heavy breath, Roman shook his head no.

"Thought we're through with this already. Seth, I can't tell him that I lo..."

A low groan from the major direction of his chest caused the words to die in his throat. Dean writhed lightly in his suddenly uneasy sleep, slipped deeper until his head was resting on Roman's stomach while his fingers clenched in his shirt, tugging hard at it. Mumbled words, barely even audible. The angelic features suddenly tensed... a hiss passed the slightly parted lips and Roman's hold on his friend got firmer, the hand in the blond hair cradling the head against his belly while he whispered soothing words to calm him. A minute, two maybe... until it seemed to work and the uneasiness faded off of Dean's sleep again.

When Roman looked over to Seth again, he found him staring at Dean with in sadness furrowed brows and an expression that told him that he wasn't the only one who felt that certain ache to see Dean like this, vulnerable and so utterly not the rough and tough bad boy.

"It's still a long way to go..." Seth murmured.

"Yeah. But he's not alone."

"No, he's not. But really, Rome, tell him the truth..." Seth held his hands up as Roman wanted to once again block the telling him the truth thing, silencing him with it. "Will you listen, dude? There are different truths. Tell him what this between us is, was, whatever and leave the other truth out. For now." Raising his brows, Seth snorted: "Jesus, for someone who can make people shit their pants just by glaring at them, you have surprisingly much of a coward."

"Asshole," Roman grumbled at the insult, wanting to kick Seth a little for being so impertinent but doing that would most likely wake Dean, so he settled for a half-hearted scowl.

"But you love me," his friend grinned.

"Yeah, I love you, you little shit," Roman grumbled once more.

The grin fused to a fond smile then, making the brown eyes glow with that special warmth Roman saw so often there.

"See? It's not that hard to say I love you, is it?"

No. No, it was not. Most of the time it wasn't hard and difficult to just say those three little words but the few times when saying them could cause pain and sorrow, those words were harder to overcome than the highest mountain.

But Roman didn't say anything, just brushed his fingers through the blond locks once more before picking the gamepad up again...

X

**- Dean -**

His eyes jumped back and forth between Seth and the flat screen while his fingers were busy on the gamepad. Roman was downstairs after his mother had called him to help her with something and for the past ten minutes he was alone with Seth up here.

Alone with Seth... and with the aftertaste of what had happened today.

After coming back home and finding Seth sitting so close beside Roman again, it was twice as bitter because... it felt as if Seth was standing between Roman and him and yes, he knew that it wasn't like that, knew that Seth was his friend, too, still...

Back at the shop... Roman and Seth... if he hadn't come out to look were Roman was then...

They would have kissed. _Seth_ would have kissed _Roman_.

Telling them to go home without him had been sour on his tongue but that very moment he couldn't have handled having them around, even if it had meant that maybe they would continue where he had interrupted them. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and pressing his lips to a thin line, he fixed his gaze on Seth for a moment, his stare becoming a glare briefly because he just couldn't wipe that feeling away, even if it was wrong. Little bastard, trying to get his hands on Roman.

And that was the bitterest thing about it, wasn't it? Here he had been thinking that the chance that Roman was into guys was less than nonexistent and then it hadn't been only one epiphany that had hit him today, no, it had been two.

Epiphany one, he wanted Roman. Epiphany two, he fucking _wanted_ Roman and he had to discover that the very fucking moment he'd seen them both almost kiss.

And that had brought a third epiphany along that hadn't actually been an epiphany but wearing the label _fucking shit_ as he understood in the same moment that maybe... he was too late...

The worst thing about it was that he couldn't just walk up to Roman and tell him because to be honest, he had no idea how to handle this right now. His own feelings. Did he want Roman as in... being on his way to fall in love? It would be a first. He'd never been in love with someone and that didn't make it any easier because how should he know that he was if he'd never felt something even close to it before? There was still a chance that he misjudged his own feelings of gratefulness for something entirely different.

But gratefulness didn't make you feel safe the way he felt safe with Roman and it didn't make you want to kiss someone the way he wanted Roman to kiss him. It sure didn't make you sport a goddamn wood.

And it didn't make your heart dance like his heart danced because of Roman...

Maybe he should simply do what Seth almost had done, grab Roman and kiss him. But he couldn't. What if Roman wouldn't want him that way? What if he... what if he wanted Seth?

Admittedly he'd been a little, well, surprised to see Roman and Seth like that. To realize that his friends were actually not as straight as he'd been thinking. Especially Roman and in the surprise and the _fuck I want him_ had mingled a certain disappointment that Roman hadn't told him, a pretty silly reaction since there had been more important things all the time than Roman's actual sexual orientation. And fair's fair, he, too, hadn't said a word that he was gay. He should though. Really should. Owed Roman actually.

Couldn't. Not... not yet. Or maybe... uh, maybe yes?

No. First he should make sure what it was he was feeling...

Waking up curled against Roman after a handful of sleep had been nice. After being at the shop for a little more than an hour, following daddy Reigns around like a puppy and listening and asking and being told that he was welcome anytime and that Roman's dad wanted him to work on the Chevy, he'd reached a point where his whole body started to complain and he didn't dare to sit down anywhere, just because he would have fallen asleep in a blink. So getting comfy on the big man's bed where everything and anything smelled like him, where all was soft and with Roman sitting so close beside him, it hadn't been a wonder that he'd fallen asleep practically immediately. The snuggling up to Superman hadn't been his plan though. Simply happened.

Sit down, shift until you made yourself a nest, lean against a nicely warm and sexy guy, close your eyes for a second to savor the comfyness... and your body says, why, thank you and turns off the lights.

The waking up... he could get used to waking up like that. The first thing he'd noticed when he stepped into the twilight zone between being asleep and being awake was... Roman's scent. Most likely because he'd actually had his nose buried in the big man's shirt. The next thing had been that kind of warmth only a body could provide. A firm yet soft cushion he was engulfed in... that turned out to be Roman's side, his belly and his arm that had been wrapped around him. Eventually he'd arrived in the land of being fully awake again, but for a minute or two longer he pretended not to be awake and allowed himself just to lie there and let Roman's presence calm him because even if he already felt calm... Roman worked extra calming on him, pitching the _I feel good_ sensation to the highest levels. And while still pretending not to be awake, he hooked a leg over Roman's experimentally. In answer Roman had tightened his hold on him, had started to brush his thumb back and forth tenderly.

Oh fuck, yes, and how he could get fucking used to this...

His eyes followed the Seth's virtual character on the screen that was sneaking right in front of his digital alter ego and with a sour little smile… he shot…

Game over.

"You shot me," Seth stated dumbfounded.

Well, duh.

Throwing the controller beside him on the mattress, Dean drawled: "I stumbled."

Barely said, the words caused Seth to snap his head around to Dean, staring at him definitely a tiny bit scandalized.

"You... The fuck you stumbled!" Seth half-snapped, half-snorted. "It's a fucking video game! You can't fucking stumble in a fucking video game!"

Frowning unimpressed and yes, he felt a certain satisfaction as he watched the reaction, he shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest. Something he regretted immediately as his sore shoulder graced him with a sting and a dull throbbing afterwards and so he let them slip a bit deeper. Folding his hands, he rested them on his belly while holding his friend's gaze.

"Well, I can..."

... not-stumble-stumble and accidentally shoot you on purpose.

Well, he would never lay a hand on Seth. Seth was his friend and although his occasionally pretty straightforward nature could be uncomfortable, he knew that he only meant good. Also trying to hit on Roman was legitimate since they both were free and Dean hadn't announced any kind of more than just friendship interest whatsoever in Roman. He couldn't blame Seth for trying to get a piece of Superman, just like he couldn't blame Roman for taking what was offered. Because Seth _had_ offered. It had been his hand in the black mane that had pulled Roman closer.

Again a snort as Seth dropped his controller on the mattress, too. With a sigh he folded his left leg under himself while pulling his right knee up, resting his right forearm on it. He stared at Dean in slight amusement and Dean wondered what about this situation was so amusing.

Shooting that virtual character and thus ruining the game had been an admittedly pretty childish _don't touch what's mine_ kind of shove and supposed to irk Seth. Instead the little two-toned nerd was smiling at him.

Littler fucker had to ruin his satisfaction here...

The lingering silence and Seth's staring that got inquiring and pondering made him feel uncomfortable although he would never have admitted it.

He was about to ask though if there was something sticking to his face as his friend tilted his head slightly to the side and said: "So… you're thinking that I'm trying to take Roman away from you."

Not a question but a statement and usually he would have come up now with some smartass reply, but fact was that he was tongue-tied since it had been a hit in the bull's eye again, this statement. Ready, aim, fire… dead on target.

"I'm not sure what to think," he muttered eventually as his tongue obeyed again.

"You can't stand the idea that Rome and I could be an item."

Again not a question.

Narrowing his eyes a little, Dean asked lowly: "Are you?"

_Just say no._

Breathing a sigh, Seth began to pick at his nails, his lips curling in a crooked smile while his eyes took on a soft note and although Seth wasn't his type of guy, Dean had to admit that he was eye-candy and who could have blamed Roman to evince interest in him?

"I'm not gay," Seth said after a moment and Dean couldn't help but snort in blatant skepticism.

"Hard to believe that," he added, shooting the other man a raised eyebrow.

He watched his friend nod and purse his lips, the brown eyes roaming his face as Seth seemed to think about something.

"Interesting, you know? I mean your reaction. Why does it itch you so much that Roman and I could be together? It wouldn't change your relationship with him the least bit, him being your brother and you being a part of this family."

_Bam_. How could words actually be air-to-air missiles? Well, Seth's words _could_ as it seemed and he kept delivering them unerringly. The kid was too smart for his own good, fucking couldn't stop putting his finger on sore spots. No matter what Dean would have answered now, it would have been the wrong thing to say, most certainly revealing things that shouldn't be revealed, and so he just kept staring at Seth with a raised brow.

Another sigh passed Seth's lips then as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Look, I could reel a speech now how and why all this happened but I'll keep it short. Yeah, I wanted to kiss Roman and Roman… the past days and weeks actually have distressed him more than he wants to admit. This slip was an outlet if you want. I don't have a crush on him and he doesn't have one on me. It's not gonna happen again. Okay?"

It could have made him happy to hear that there was nothing behind that almost kiss. Could have. If he could believe it. Seth was not gay? Maybe. But he sure wasn't straight. He didn't have a crush on Roman? Dean didn't buy that. Being a straight guy you don't go and kiss your male best friend. And to it all added that Roman suffered even more under the whole situation than Dean actually had realized, that he was trying to handle things silently. Probably so as not to put the weight on Dean's shoulders, too.

Idiot.

He willed his façade not to waver under the nasty feeling of so many not good things combined which coiled up in his guts at hearing that.

"Not my pigeon if you two have a thing going or not, you're old enough," Dean replied sharply, pressing the plain lie through his gritted teeth.

Scrubbing his hands through his face, Seth groaned: "Jesus, Dean, stop biting! I mean no harm, you idiot. I'm your friend and I care about you. See, I'm just trying to clear the situation here. I'm not trying to take Roman away from you, okay? Neither as your friend, nor as your brother or… whatever." Sighing for the umpteenth time, Seth held up his hands in defeat, grumbling a _stubborn mule_. "You still hurting much?" he asked then quietly, switching to a less touchy topic.

"It's getting better," Dean murmured, involuntary wrapping his good arm around his middle while dropping his eyes to the gamepads.

His mind was still clinging to the information that Roman wasn't coping as good with it as all it seemed, that it troubled him more than he already showed. Was that making him this Superman's Kryptonite? A thought that was giving him an odd mixture of good and bad feelings here.

"Dean?"

"Huh?" he breathed, glancing up to the other man.

"Do you want me to go?"

The question made him _really_ look at Seth and he was met by a serious expression that said _I'll go if you want me to_ and open brown eyes which whispered _I'm your friend goddammit_. Dean felt a tiny pang of guilt for being so snarky because after all he didn't bear Seth a real grudge since he hadn't done something wrong, had he? Not really. Shaking his head no, he tried himself on a smile.

"Nah, 's okay. I'm just…"

Trailing off, he shrugged his shoulders.

"… being an asshole sometimes?" Seth suggested helpfully, earning a glare.

"Little shit," Dean grumbled.

Quietness for a second or two. Once more the expression on Seth's face changed, becoming thoughtfully.

Then: "Dean?"

"What?" he asked warily, already having an idea that they were back at the touchy topic.

"Talk to him."

He didn't get a chance to reply as Roman's mom came walking in, telling them to come down because she had made sandwiches. But maybe everything had been said anyway… For now.

- tbc –

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Okay, no need to hit me for allowing Seth and Roman some more Rolleigns time here, Dean did that for you already ;))) What do you think, will Seth's pushing Dean and Roman help?

**Got some candy for me? **Do we pass the 300 reviews? Prett please? *big puppy eyes*


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